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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850267">You Can't Have My Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rice_and_beans/pseuds/rice_and_beans'>rice_and_beans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dubious Consent, Everyone's ashamed all the time, F/F, Futanari, G!P Hermione, Other, PWP, Shameless Smut, Veela Mates, a story emerges, fleurmione - Freeform, maybe eventual plot, maybe not, primal play</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:02:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>58,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rice_and_beans/pseuds/rice_and_beans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The heart wants what the heart wants, and one's inner veela wants what it wants too. Sometimes those things don't line up. Hermione is sent by Molly Weasley to check on Fleur who has not been coping well since the death of her husband. Hermione encounters Fleur in quite a state.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1504</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Heat of the Moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione opened the door and let herself into Shell Cottage. She had knocked and there had been no response, but there was no way she was going to return to the Burrow and tell Molly Weasley that she didn't see Fleur. The Weasley matriarch had sent Hermione to check on the veela. Fleur had become increasingly withdrawn after Bill's death, only meeting with Mrs. Weasley, and only when the red headed woman stopped by to drop off dinner or groceries for the week.</p><p>
  <em>"Hermione, dear, if you could just drop by and check on her. I'm worried about her. Perhaps I was not always the biggest supporter of my son's relationship with Fleur, but she is family after all. Maybe she could use some 'girl time' with someone her age."</em>
</p><p>But Hermione wasn't a 'girls time' type of girl, and she did not know how to relate to the veela. She had never had much of a relationship with her, except for the time after her torture at the hands of one Bellatrix Lestrange. She never knew how to thank Fleur for tending to her, for healing her back to life. Fleur took care of her body, and also created an emotionally safe and warm place in the crowded cottage for Hermione to process what had happened to her. She had listened to Hermione, seen Hermione, handled her vulnerability with care and kept her secrets. That was years ago. But Molly Weasley wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, and Hermione really should find a way to give back to Fleur.</p><p>"Fleur?" The brunette called out. "It's me, Hermione. Are you home?" No response came from within the dark cottage. She was tempted to turn around and head back out when an image of a disappointed Molly Weasley conjured itself into her mind (hands on hips, shaking head, big sad eyes). She sighed. Onward.</p><p>And then there were noises coming from the second floor. Banging, thuds, and...crying?</p><p>Hermione unsheathed her wand and bounded up the stairs. Following the noises she ran down the hallway to the last bedroom where she promptly threw open the door and entered, prepared to fight. Hermione quickly scanned the room for danger. Some furniture was turned over, there were holes in the wall, a lamp was broken on the floor, and the vanity mirror was destroyed. But no one was in the room except for Fleur, on the ground, and… was she partially transformed? She was on her knees and seemed hunched over in pain.</p><p>"Fleur?" Hermione slipped her wand back into its holster as she slowly approached. "Fleur, are you ok? Are you hurt?" Fleur's hands looked battered. Hermione reached out to touch them when Fleur snapped her head up with a piercing gaze.</p><p>The veela's eyes, usually a light blue as clear as the sky, now took on a dark sapphire hue. There was no recognition in them. Along her high cheek bones was a delicate plumage of small white feathers that blended into her hairline. A few feathers appeared to be sprouted amongst the blonde's tresses. The same white feathers kissed upon her cheek bones were sprouted on the tops of her shoulders, with a few lined a small ways down the upper part of her arm. Her nails looked...dangerous. Hermione fought the urge to step back. Not in fear, but in surprise. She had never seen Fleur in any stage of transformation. What had caused this? And as changed as Fleur was, she was still stunning. Perhaps more so, thought Hermione. No, differently so. From an elegant beauty to a feral one.</p><p>Hermione pulled herself from that train of thought and knelt down in front of Fleur to check for injuries. "Talk to me, Fleur." <em>Why would she be partially transformed?</em> As she tried to recall everything she had read about veela, Hermione's hands began their assessment. Turning over Fleur's hands and forearms, she took out her wand and quietly cast several episkeys to heal the scrapes and bruising. She gently lifted Fleur's chin to look at her face, neck, chest. Oh. Fleur was in nothing but a set of black bra and panties. Why had Hermione not noticed this sooner? She hoped she was not embarrassing Fleur by studying her so.</p><p>"Please. Help me." A simple and quietly desperate request. Hermione almost didn't recognize Fleur's voice. The veela grabbed one of Hermione's hands and pressed it firmly to her chest, between her breasts.</p><p>"Tell me what's wrong. Who hurt you?" <em>Veela transformed in battle, and when under extreme emotional duress...in times of danger...</em> The texts from the limited passages on veela that she had read popped into her head. <em>Who and where was the culprit?</em></p><p>Fleur grabbed Hermione's other hand and joined it with the first, before pressing both to cup her breasts. Hermione's neck and cheeks went scarlet as she let out a squeak. She felt as if her brain was short circuiting. She was suddenly pulled to her feet as Fleur stood up, hands still clenched onto her chest.</p><p>"I need you, Bill. It is the heat, I cannot control it! I need you," the words were jumping out of Fleur's mouth faster than Hermione could process them or Fleur's ensuing actions. She felt herself being pushed backwards, pushed onto a bed, and straddled by a hot and panting veela.</p><p><em>Oh, my God. Heat. Veela can also transform when in heat</em>. Fleur's hands were raking over Hermione's body, trying to tear off the Gryffindor's clothes. Hermione was immobile, almost in a state of shock, but then Fleur ground her center down onto Hermione. <em>Oh, Merlin</em>. Hermione felt herself growing hard, an erection quickly forming.</p><p>"Fleur! Fleur wait! Oh, goddess." Hermione tried pressing against Fleur's shoulders to keep her away, but Fleur managed to lean in close enough to scrape her teeth against Hermione's neck. "Fleur, wait, please! I'm not Bill! Snap out of it! I'm not Bill!" Hermione searched Fleur's face, trying to catch her eyes. She grabbed the veela's wrists in an attempt to slow the groping and get her attention.</p><p>Fleur stilled, and Hermione saw it- some clarity flash across the blonde's face, an understanding. Fleur finally locked eyes with Hermione and Hermione again felt frozen in place. Fleur studied her, eyes darting around the brunette's face, down her body. Blonde hair fell forward and cascaded across Hermione's chest and shoulders as the veela leaned forward and tentatively pressed her face against the brunette's neck. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as Fleur inhaled a deep breath through her nose, taking in the young witch's scent, and shuddered as Fleur's hot breath exhaled across her blushing skin.</p><p>Hermione couldn't breathe, she was breathless. Lungs refused to inflate, her heart seemed to slow to a halt, as she felt Fleur's hand travel down her torso, down down down until it cupped Hermione's hardening bulge. Was this really happening? Was Hermione going to be suffocated in arousal and confusion? Then she felt Fleur gently squeeze and move along the length of her member, evaluating her. Clear. That jump started Hermione's autonomic nervous system and she gasped, back arched, heart jumping into double time in apology for her near-death experience.</p><p>Fleur purred and growled. "Non, you are not Bill," the veela deduced, sitting up. "You are larger. You smell lighter. The heat your body is radiating is stronger." Fleur listed off the results of her examination, still straddling the brunette. Her eyes darkened, blue to black, avian. More feathers bristled around the edges of her visage, sprouted and wove more densely through her hair. Hermione's eyes followed the wave of plumage spreading down the length of her arms, covering the backs of her hands. Feral. Beautiful. "You are a more fit mate." Fleur began to rock her hips slowly. Hermione gulped. Willed her lungs to continue breathing, heart to continue pumping, blood to continue flowing. Brain to keep functioning. Synapses fired. This wasn't right.</p><p>"Fleur, I'm so sorry." Hermione attempted to sit up, but Fleur wouldn't budge. Her strong legs kept Hermione pinned, she pushed a hand against the brunette's sternum to keep her from progressing upwards. "I'm- I can't. I can't take advantage of you like this. I- I-" Hermione was only human. She was determined to follow her conscience's lead, but her body was screaming at her to stop resisting. She had a goddess on top of her, half naked, warm center pressed against her, and those movements, the rocking against Hermione's erection. It was too much. Time slowed. She felt faint. Was this how it would happen? Was Hermione going to drown in her own lust and Fleur's beauty? Another feeble attempt at moving, resisting: "We shouldn't-"</p><p>Hermione was cut off by a threatening growl. Fleur grabbed both of her wrists and held them between their bodies. "Stay." A simple and quietly commanding demand. "Please," her voice and grip softened. "You are Hermione Granger." She released the witch and planted her hands on the mattress by Hermione's shoulders as she leaned down. Hermione didn't know what to do with her own hands. She decided to keep them between her body and Fleur's, try to keep some space, some decency. The Fleur she knew had never, would never, throw herself at the witch this way. Hot spikes of heat coursed through her body, accumulating in her gut and then lower as Fleur brought her face into Hermione's neck. She nuzzled, sniffed, long lick, then firmly encircled the Gryffindor with her strong arms.</p><p>"Oh, fuck" Hermione moaned. Her hands were trapped between them, unintentionally pressed against the blonde's breasts. There was no space between their bodies, and Fleur's small rocking movements were erotic. Dizzying. Hermione's dick was so hard it almost hurt. Her eyes rolled back. <em>Perhaps I will meet my end in a seizure</em>. How to stop this? How to be an honorable and decent woman? "Fleur," she managed out. "You don't know what you're doing."</p><p>"I do. Stay. You are perfect. Please, you are the perfect mate for me." Fleur practically purred out the last part. She then proceeded to unbutton and unzip Hermione's pants and start to tug them down, somehow managing them to Hermione's upper thighs.</p><p>"W-what?" What the hell was Fleur talking about? Hermione tried to block the veela's determined hands, but to no avail. Her member was freed and was currently being pressed to Fleur's heat with only undergarments as barriers. It felt so….<em>oh, goddess</em>.</p><p>"You are the brightest witch of her age," Fleur lifted herself up enough to look into Hermione's eyes, raised her hand and extended one long finger with a long talon-like nail. "You have demonstrated great courage," she lowered the nail to the collar of Hermione's shirt, then slowly dragged it down, cutting the shirt open, leaving an angry red line on skin in its wake. "Attractive," she pulled the shirt open, leaned down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the top of Hermione's breasts. "And very powerful," she concluded her argument by once again reaching down and firmly grasping Hermione's cock.</p><p>Hermione was losing her grip on reason. All the reasons she should stop this from happening, all the logic and decency she had were quickly receding to the back of her mind. She began to move her hips to gain more friction against Fleur's hand. She whimpered. Why did the simple touch and feel of Fleur set her on fire almost more than going further with any other woman she had been intimate with? "We can't," she whispered unconvincingly as she jutted her hips forward again. Fleur removed her hand and pressed her wet covered center against Hermione's length.</p><p>"We can." Fleur reached back and removed her bra, letting it fall away and bearing herself to the brunette. "I am veela. Powerful. Beautiful. Next in line to rule." She grabbed Hermione's wrist just as before, and drew her hands to her naked breasts. "I need a mate like you, who can match me." When Fleur let go of Hermione's wrists, the Gryffindor did not let her hands fall. She reveled in the feel of the weight and softness of the blonde's breasts. Closed her eyes when she felt the hardened nipples against her palms. "Imagine our babies."</p><p>That sobered Hermione up. Her eyes shot open and she quickly sat up, taking the veela off guard. She turned enough to slide Fleur off of her and she jumped off the bed, pulling her ripped shirt together for modesty. As she tried to move toward the door, create some distance, space, access air, she nearly tripped over herself, forgetting that her pants had been drawn part way down her thighs. She was a disheveled mess. She heard Fleur growl behind her as she tried to stuff her erection back into her pants while re-dressing. She had only a few more steps to the door when she felt it. It was so much. Time slowed. She felt both light and heavy at once.</p><p>Her body was overcome, her mind was clouded, by something...something...that felt so good. So deliciously good. She felt at peace, but still in need of something. Someone. A silky voice sounded in her head:</p><p>'<em>Turn around.'</em></p><p>She obeyed. A pleasant warmth spread through her, traveling up and down her spine. When she faced Fleur, the blonde was sitting on the edge of the bed watching her, and everything else seemed to fade away. Her peripheral vision became hazy; Fleur came into sharp focus. So beautiful. Hermione felt the warmth buzzing and pulsing through her body pool into her chest and gut, travel down until it stopped. Hermione was painfully aware that the sweet and fiery sensation would indeed not flow into her cock. She whimpered and slipped both hands into her pants, grabbing hold of herself to try and relieve the ache of not enough.</p><p>'<em>Take your pants off.'</em> </p><p>Again, Hermione obeyed. Another wave swept through her body, before it disappeared. Her mind cleared. She was standing with her pants around her ankles, shirt hanging open, and hands wrapped around her dick, mere feet away from Fleur Delacour.</p><p>"What the fuck?" A rhetorical question to no one in particular. Hermione released herself.</p><p>"Take off my panties," Fleur directed.</p><p>Hermione took a step forward, and then hesitated. After a moment she was overcome by those same sensations. The pleasure and comfort building in her body was almost incomprehensible to her senses. The only thing she was sure of was Fleur, and doing whatever the Veela asked of her. Anything she could do to please her. Anything if she could have her way with her. Anything. Anything. She walked to Fleur, hands reached forward, fingers slipped just under the hem of black panties. And then the sensation was gone.</p><p>Hermione looked from where the tips of her fingers disappeared beneath the edge of cloth, to Fleur's midnight black eyes. Her heart was beating wildly. Her hands were shaking. How she wanted to turn her brain off and just let her body give in. She couldn't help herself. She curled her fingers and began to slowly drag the underwear down. Fleur's hips lifted enough for Hermione to continue her task. Hermione's eyes lingered on every inch of skin the panties traveled down, over muscular thighs, unscathed knees, shapely calves, small ankles, and delicate feet. She was aching with so much want, so much of not enough. But, but, but...</p><p>"I want you. I do. I want you so badly. But you're in heat. This isn't right. You would never-"</p><p>Fleur let her knees drop open, revealing herself entirely to the brunette. She edged herself forward just enough so that she was barely still on the bed. Fleur was propped up with her hands pressed into the mattress at either side of her hips. Open, waiting, ready. Hermione's jaw dropped. Fleur Delacour was naked, feral, in want, in need, and open in front of her, offering herself. Beautiful. Ethereal. Seductive. Hermione's prick throbbed.</p><p>"Please," Fleur breathed out. "I consent. Do you want me to beg? I will beg for you." The Veela moved one hand to her center and dipped a finger inside herself with ease. She was dripping. "I need to be filled. I need you, this is not enough." Hermione watched Fleur's finger tip, hypnotized, as it reappeared, and disappeared, and reappeared, and disappeared again from Fleur's center. "Please, it hurts. I need to feel your cock inside me. Help me, Hermione." Fleur's finger withdrew, glistening and traveled through her folds before she placed her hand back onto the mattress. "I <em>need</em> you. I need <em>you</em>."</p><p>Hermione was only human. A human with an intense desire and in intense pain with that desire being so close to being met. She stepped forward and between the open legs. Fleur banished the rest of Hermione's clothing with a flick of her wrist. Hermione's hands went to the insteps of Fleur's delicate feet, traveled over her small ankles, past her shapely calves, and grazed over her knees, inner thighs, and stopped to frame the Veela's cunt. She heard Fleur purring her approval, watched the swell of her breasts moving up and down in anticipation. Hermione grabbed her shaft and lined up the tip of her dick to Fleur's entrance.</p><p>"Two conditions," Hermione's few remaining brain cells were buzzing around trying to make a last ditch effort at reason.</p><p>"Anything," the response was immediate and breathless.</p><p>"Don't do that again." Hermione didn't know how to describe it, but Fleur seemed to understand.</p><p>"I promise I won't. I will do anything you say. I won't use my thrall again, I promise you. Please. Please take me. Take me, Hermione." Fleur was whimpering and reaching for Hermione's cock. She began to stroke it, trying to coax it into her. Hermione clenched her eyes shut and forced down a moan, steeling herself.</p><p>"And..and..contraception?" Fleur growled in protest. Hermione made to step away but Fleur reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She waved her free hand in the air, performing some intricate movements with her fingers before touching her lower abdomen.</p><p>"It is done," and that was all Hermione had left in her. She took a breath and pushed herself inside.</p><p>The blonde let out a guttural moan and Hermione's knees buckled at the feel of being inside Fleur. Her body fell forward into Fleur's and she planted her hands on the bed to catch and steady herself. Fleur's arms looped under Hermione's and her sharp nails set against the Gryffindor's skin, threatening pain in exchange for pleasure. If being still and only halfway inside of the blonde felt this good, the pain would be worth it. Hermione shifted her hips back slightly, and then pushed in further than she had the first time. <em>Jesus. Merlin. Goddess</em>. Fleur was, Fleur was… <em>everything.</em> Hermione's brain was turning on and off, and on and off. Her hips kept moving, her hardened member slowly appearing, disappearing, reappearing, disappearing, again and again inside of the Veela. Slowly, taking in every moment. She felt Fleur's nails gently glide up her back, up her neck, and into her hair, caressing her scalp. Felt Fleur's legs wrap around her, pressing on her back to pull Hermione in deeper each time she thrust forward.</p><p>The noises were like music. Fleur and Hermione whimpering and almost crying in relief. Aches being mercifully sated. Hermione's legs were trembling. She was no virgin, but she never felt anything like this before. Was this part of the Veela magic? Magic fucking pussy? <em>Oh no</em>. It felt like they had only just begun, but the warmth and the tightness and something ineffable about the way Fleur's walls were squeezing and almost caressing Hermione's dick was just so wonderfully unbearable. It was going to end too soon, too quickly, she wanted to stop but her body wouldn't let her.</p><p>"Shit. Shit, Fleur, I'm sorry. I can't..." Hermione made some very undignified sounds as she came undone and released herself into Fleur. The Veela pulled Hermione in impossibly closer, deeper, until Hermione was completely drained. Hermione collapsed bonelessly onto Fleur, pushing them both back onto the bed.</p><p>"Fleur, I'm so sorry. I've never come that quickly before." Hermione was flushed from pleasure and outright mortification at her lack of endurance. Fleur hushed Hermione and continued to run her fingers through the brown locks.</p><p>"Do not be embarrassed, ma petite lionne," Fleur purred into Hermione's ear. "It is your first time with a Veela. It is to be expected. But we have all night, non?" Fleur chuckled when Hermione perked up at that.</p><p>Would Hermione continue all night? Of course, she had already given in. Already been inside Fleur. She was certain this opportunity would never come again. Best to take advantage of the night ahead. There was no way she could say 'no' anymore to the woman underneath her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. What a Veela Wants, a Veela Gets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fleur meant it when she said they had the rest of the night, and Hermione really couldn't say 'no' to the veela. Hermione discovers what it means to be with a being so insatiable. Something that feels this good will probably have consequences, but the Gryffindor has retired all logic for the remainder of the evening.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You were all warned. There's even a "PWP" tag for the story. This chapter is very porny. But there may be one or two plot-important things that occur. Read at your own risk.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You- you knew I wouldn’t last very long, didn’t you?” Hermione asked, embarrassed. </p><p>“Oui, but do not worry. I will train you, You will last longer.” The veela was smiling at Hermione as she said this. Fleur released Hermione from her legs and began to crawl backwards further onto the bed. As Hermione slid out of her they both gasped. Hermione was still very sensitive, but Fleur looked ready for round two. The brunette remained standing by the side of the bed, feeling awkward and self-conscious. She had come so quickly, and although Fleur reassured her that it was fine, she more so felt terrible that she hadn’t gotten the veela off. It was overall probably a lackluster performance on Hermione’s part, but a divine experience for her. <em> The veela did say we have the rest of the night </em>. Hermione was determined to satisfy the blonde. Fleur beckoned her onto the bed, using her finger in a come-hither motion. Again, Hermione found herself all too willing to oblige the woman. </p><p>The two witches laid down facing each other, eyes roaming over bodies. Fleur openly appreciated Hermione’s without shame. Hermione on the other hand was looking, but not letting her gaze linger too long anywhere without glancing away. How silly. They had just fucked, and yet she still felt bashful about gazing upon the veela. She lifted up her hand and reached forward, stopping short of touching the blonde's feather-covered shoulders. </p><p>"Fleur?" The Veela looked up at Hermione. "May I?" Fleur cocked her head slightly before nodding her consent. </p><p>Hermione's hand tentatively touched the white plumes starting at the crook of Fleur's neck. They were incredibly soft, and she let out a small hum in appreciation. She added a little more pressure as she slowly caressed her hand over more feathers, over Fleur's shoulders, down her arms, and to the back of her hand, enjoying the feel of the feathers gliding under her fingers and palm. She lifted her hand to repeat the action, hand to neck to restart the journey, when she saw Fleur's eyes locked on her. She held her gaze as she repeated the action, running her hand down its path more firmly. She felt vibrations emanating from the Veela. As she went to repeat her actions a third time, Fleur caught her hand.</p><p>“I still have my needs.”</p><p><em> Messaged received</em>. Hermione pushed Fleur onto her back and went to work. She began to ravish the Veela with lips and teeth on skin. Neck, collarbone, breasts. She teased Fleur’s nipple pert by grazing lips, tongue and teeth over its peak. Fleur was squirming and whimpering beneath her, but Hermione waited until the Veela laced her hands into Hermione’s hair roughly before she nipped down on the bud. She was rewarded with a well-earned cry and switched to Fleur’s other breast. </p><p>Hermione let out her own cry, but in pain. Fleur’s nails began to dig into the skin of her scalp. This was the exchange of pain for the honor of pleasing a Veela. With Fleur’s nipple still between her teeth, Hermione made eye contact with the her, let out a snarl and bit down more firmly. Fleur growled. Delight flashed across the blonde’s eyes and she dragged her nails down Hermione’s neck, to her back and began to scratch red marks upon the younger witch. Hermione knew without words that it was a challenge from the Veela. The Gryffindor would meet it. </p><p>Hermione began to bite and suck more aggressively. Any skin that she could reach was fair game. Fleur’s shoulders, her ribs, back up to her neck and then down again. Her hands grabbed Fleur’s sides roughly to let the Veela know she was in charge. Fleur was moaning, growling and scratching Hermione in response. Her hands traveled all over Hermione’s back. Any part she could reach was fair game. She caressed, dug her nails in, palmed Hermione closer. Hermione felt woozy for a moment. The thrill of turning the Veela into a squirming mess, combined with the changes between gentle touches and painful scratches, were setting her mind and body on fire. She was determined to please Fleur and fought through the dizziness of lust. The smell of Fleur’s growing arousal spurred her on. </p><p>As Hermione continued bruising Fleur’s body with her mouth, she slid her hand down to the witch’s cunt, cupping it firmly. Fleur moaned and rolled her hips into Hermione’s hand. With no hesitation the brunette slid her thumb and middle finger through her folds, collecting sweet juices before dragging them up to Fleur’s clit and going to work. Hermione was more confident now. She knew how to manipulate her slender and dexterous fingers in ways to make any witch come undone. It appeared Veela were no different. Fleur stopped abusing Hermione’s back and instead pulled her into her body tight. Low growls and moans emanating from her mouth. Hermione wet a third finger and continued her assault.</p><p>“Hermione...<em>Hermione</em>...what are you...ohhh.”</p><p>Hermione’s dick came to life; hardening at the sound of her name tumbling in such a way out of the French woman’s mouth. She shifted and climbed over Fleur’s leg to position herself between the two limbs. Her mouth went back to work, focusing on Fluer’s nipples. Extraordinary how three small bundles of nerves could ruin a woman. Fleur’s legs were starting to shake and Hermione adjusted her digits’ clever manipulations to unyielding strokes over her clit. The Gryffindor felt her body lifted as Fleur’s back arched into hers, chanting Hermione’s name like a mantra as the younger witch brought her over the edge. Rough nips turned to soft kisses on Fleur’s breasts and Hermione guided her down from the high.</p><p>Hermione gently dipped her fingers inside of the blonde, collecting juice from the excessive wetness that poured out, and then brought those fingers to her mouth to taste.</p><p>No, not juice. Nectar ambrosial. She hummed in delight before quickly descending down Fleur’s body to drink from the source. Only Fleur pushed her away before she could get another taste. Looking up in confusion, Hermione opened her mouth to ask why.</p><p>“Non. I need you inside me again, immédiatement!” The Veela wasted no time, sitting up and turning around on her hands and knees, pushing her hips back toward Hermione. The sight alone was enough to make any mortal pass out. Fleur was dripping, her cunt exposed, her ass on display. Ready and willing. The Gryffindor wasted no time, kneeling behind the blonde and grabbing her hips. </p><p><em> Make this about her</em>, Hermione coached herself. She pushed the tip of her cock against Fleur’s entrance, circling the opening to collect wetness. She entered just enough for the head to go in, before withdrawing. Fleur’s cry expressed her need and disapproval. Hermione did it again, pushing far enough for only the head to enter, and then grabbing her shaft she circled against the walls inside of Fleur’s entrance before withdrawing again. She used a firm grip on Fleur’s hips to keep her in place and prevent her from pushing back onto Hermione. She continued. Again. Again. Fleur was keening. <em> Beg. Beg. Beg. </em> Hermione willed it, and Fleur, as if hearing her thoughts, obeyed. </p><p>“Hermione, please! You are<em> killing </em> me!” Fleur was almost crying</p><p>“Tell me what you want,” The brunette’s voice was low and raspy. She pushed in, circled, and pulled out. Fleur, in desperation, did not even try to rise to the challenge. </p><p>“Just fuck me, <em>please</em>! Fill me! I need-” Hermione thrust inside of the Veela and set a punishing pace, rewarding Fleur for her submission. Guttural groans and animalistic noises from the blonde assured Hermione she was doing it right, just the way Fleur needed it. It took a moment to realize those noises weren’t just coming from Fleur, but from Hermione’s own throat as well. </p><p><em> Jesus fucking Christ</em>. Fleur’s heat, the pace, and that indescribable way Fleur’s walls seemed to pull Hermione in deeper and tighten around her… Fortunately after coming once already, she found herself able to hold out. Just barely, but she could. Hermione opened clenched eyes to watch in awe as plumes of white emerged, blooming down Fleur’s spine and across her shoulder blades. Hermione was unsure why, but this turned her on further. Fleur’s hips were pushing back against each thrust now almost viciously. Hermione reached forward with one hand to touch the feathers between the blonde’s scapula before pushing down hard. Fleur’s ass jutted out further with her chest pressed against the bed, talons tore into the mattress. <em> Oh, Merlin. I’m getting close. </em> </p><p>Hermione refused to finish before Fleur again. She got up from her knees and planted her feet on the bed without pulling out. She slowed her pace, but forcefully pushed in as deep as she could go with each thrust. Out slow, pause, ram in. Repeat. The deceleration helped to stave off Hermione’s impending orgasm, but the force and the rhythmic grunting from Fleur was overwhelming. She was sweating and becoming light headed. She returned the hand from Fleur’s back to her hip to steady herself. Fleur was tightening around her cock. She had to bring the Veela to orgasm soon. Hermione bent over, chest and cheek to Fleur’s back, as she pounded into her, trembling as she tried to keep the slow pace. Her hands snaked around the blonde’s waist and dipped low enough to find her clit. She applied pressure and started to stroke. Fleur’s cunt was hot and pulsating around Hermione. <em> Fuck, fuck, fuck.</em>..</p><p>“Yes, yes! Do <em>not</em> hold back, ma lionne! Don’t hold back. I can take it! Fuck me!” </p><p>Hermione lost it. Inhibitions disappeared as she picked up her pace and fucked Fleur with abandon. No grace. No set rhythm. No thoughts. Just hedonism driving her to completion. The last thing she heard before she passed out was Fleur screaming her name, and her own voice roaring out Fleur’s. </p><p> </p><p>--------------------------</p><p> </p><p><em> What an erotic dream. </em> Hermione was parched and damp with sweat. <em> I need a shower. </em> But then suddenly she felt a consuming warmth wrap around her cock. Eyes shot open as she looked down her body to see the Veela’s mouth descend and take in half of Hermione’s length. <em> Not a dream. </em> As Fleur’s mouth pulled back up, she let her tongue drag along the underside of Hermione’s shaft. Hermione choked out something incoherent. </p><p>“Oh good, you are awake.” Fleur smiled mischievously as she crawled up Hermione’s body, allowing her breasts to graze along Hermione’s skin on the way up. </p><p><em>This woman is some kind of sex goddess </em>. Fleur pressed her face into Hermione’s neck, breathing her in and out, sliding her body up and down against the woman beneath her. Hermione’s body was weak from too much pleasure. She could only manage to moan at the friction. When Fleur began to lick her neck Hermione raised her hands to start caressing Fleur’s body, following the direction of plumage. Fleur reach between them, grasped Hermione’s dick and in one smooth motion slid her center down onto it.</p><p><em> I’m really going to die this time. This is really how I’m going to go. </em> Fleur continued rocking, which was just as well, as Hermione was a useless mess underneath the Veela. She didn’t even try to contain the sounds coming out of her mouth. She ran her hands up and down Fleur’s back; caressing feathers and scratching at skin. <em> Will I pass out again? </em></p><p>“Oh, <em> Hermione </em>. You feel so good. Mmm, you are <em>perfect</em> inside of me.” Fleur’s voice was so filled with lust. “Please, Hermione. Don’t stop. Never stop.” Fleur whispered the last part with a hoarse voice before sitting up. She continued to languidly ride the brunette. Hermione’s hands lazily drifted to Fleur’s hips, more for grounding herself than anything else. She did not want to lose consciousness again. She couldn’t bear to miss out on a second of this. “I’ve never...been filled… like this...this...connection...please.” Fleur was groaning out her words. </p><p>Hermione, ever eager to be the Veela-pleaser, willed her body and mind into being fully present with the blonde. Never in her life has she felt this good. Never had the sex been filled with so much chemistry and...and magic. The feel, the smell, the sight of Fleur was ethereal. A true, carnal, heavenly blessing. She was at the mercy of the Veela. </p><p>“So <em>good</em>, Hermione. You’re taking the pain away.” Fleur let her head drop back as she began pinching her nipples.</p><p>The young witch didn’t know where to look. Her eyes moved back and forth between watching Fleur tease her nipples to watching Fleur’s cunt glide up and down her shaft. Fleur started keening, quietly at first but getting louder. Her body was beginning to glow. The crescendo of whines from the Veela culminated to a fantastic moment of transformation. Hermione watched as powerful, white, elegant wings sprouted from Fleur’s back and shook themselves open. Hermione gasped and Fleur’s head snapped back in her direction. <em> Magnificent.  </em></p><p>“Let me have you.” Fleur’s voice had changed, and her tone indicated more of a demand than a request, then switched to pleading. “S'il vous plaît. Don’t stop. Let me make you mine.” Fleur was moving her hips in circles. “And I’ll be yours.” She moaned as she leaned forward, chest to chest with the brunette. She began to clench her walls against Hermione’s dick in an unfair way. “Let me mark you. You can mark me too.” Fleur brought her hands to hold both sides of Hermione’s neck. </p><p>Some distant alarm was sounding in the recesses of Hermione’s brain, but her mind was hazy with lust. Fleur wanted her? Did that mean that this could happen again after tonight? <em> More Fleur.</em> Nothing seemed more important, but she couldn’t find her voice. Her throat was dry and her body was rigid. Hermione was painfully close. </p><p>“I’ll grant you anything, everything.” Fleur moaned in promise as she began to roll her hips with more speed. “You can take me every night. Use me. Abuse me. Any way you want.” <em> Every night? </em>This didn’t have to be the last time. Fleur’s words reinvigorated Hermione; her body coming back to life and under her own control. </p><p>“Yes, yes, <em>yes</em>!” Hermione wrapped her arms around Fleur and began to fuck her back with urgency. Fleur’s wings extended to full length, her canines elongated, she grasped the back of Hermione’s neck with one hand before pulling her in. Teeth sunk into flesh. Time stopped. Neck throbbed. Hermione’s canines ached.</p><p>It all hurt so good. </p><p>Fleur released her mouth from Hermione’s neck, and turned her head to expose her own. “Mark me!” she growled in demand. Overtaken by some base instinct, Hermione did not hesitate. She opened her mouth wide and clamped down hard. Her newly sharpened teeth sank in with ease. Hermione sat up with Fleur still in her arms, still straddling her, and pulled her in as tight as possible as she pumped furiously inside the Veela. She came harder than she ever had in her whole life. </p><p>She heard their moans and animalistic cries as if she were far away. She felt Fleur go limp in her arms, they fell back together, Fleur still atop Hermione. The last thing she remembered was wrapping one arm around her Veela, and reaching forward to caress one of Fleur’s wings before she succumbed to sleep. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In the Cold Light of Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fleur and Hermione wake up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fleur slowly came to consciousness with a pain in her neck. Reaching up to massage herself she realized several things at once. She was naked. On someone. There seemed to be a swollen cut on her neck. Eyes shot open to see breasts gently rising and falling. This was a first. She carefully raised her head up enough to chance a glance at the face of the woman she was laying on top of. </p><p>Hermione Granger. </p><p>As if on cue, pieces of their shared night (and early morning) hours came rushing back to her. <em> Zut alors. </em> Her hand flew back to touch her tender neck, then unceremoniously pushed Hermione’s hair aside to assess the brunette’s neck. A small wound; teeth marks; she had marked Hermione Granger!</p><p>“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Fleur flung herself off of Hermione so quickly she nearly toppled off the bed. The younger witch sat up, startled, eyes wide. </p><p>“Fleur?”</p><p>Fleur, remembering her nakedness, yanked the blankets up to cover herself, unintentionally (but not quite caring) leaving Hermione exposed. “What are you doing here?” she hissed out angrily. </p><p>Hermione’s mouth dropped open, seemingly at a loss for words. Also naked. She quickly made to cover her breasts and her genitals at the unexpected exposé. At that, Fleur’s eyes dropped with Hermione’s hand and caught a glimpse of her poorly covered member. They both turned bright red. Fleur wrapped the blanket further around herself and swept off of the bed to create distance between them. She turned away to provide Hermione with some sense of dignity. </p><p>“I- I- I-” A stammering Hermione Granger was not something that Fleur was used to, and it was quite irritating when she needed answers. Now. She whirled back around to express these sentiments only to find a still poorly-covered witch in her bed.</p><p>“Ah!” Fleur turned away again. “Cover yourself up with the pillows or something!” This was not a way to start a morning. She heard ruffling behind her. </p><p>“I’m decent,” Hermione said in an timid voice. Fleur turned again to face the pillow-princess. </p><p>“I don’t know about that,” Fleur replied. “What are you doing here? Why did you come here last night? I told Molly in no unclear terms that she was to send no one over to this house last night.” Fleur began to hunt for clothes. She let her eyes wander at the damage she had caused the night before. She should have listened to her mother and gone back to France while she went through her heat, but the idea of leaving Shell Cottage felt like abandoning her late husband. Hermione’s response broke through Fleur’s thoughts. </p><p>“She was worried about you...we all are! She thought it was a cry for help,” Hermione lamely answered.</p><p>“I was in heat!” Fleur cried out angrily, tossing a hand up in frustration. She spotted a pile of clothes and summoned them. They were in shreds. She tossed them back down to the floor and rummaged through her wardrobe. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Fleur! I know. I tried to leave, but you used your thrall on me!” Hermione rushed out her explanation. Fleur groaned.</p><p>“I know! I know. Ok? You should never have come here. Don’t look,” Fleur dropped the blanket and began to dress. Her legs, her back, and her...womanhood...were sore. If she were to be honest with herself she would admit that it was a sweet satisfying soreness. But she was in no such mood to be honest about it. No mood for anything except to get the hell out and away from Hermione fucking Granger. She was going home. She needed counsel from her family. She had majorly fucked up. “I have to go. I will owl you.” And with that, Fleur disapparated from her home for the first time in a year. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione was very confused. She had been sitting in Fleur’s bed for the past hour trying to recover from the whirlwind of a morning. She kept turning over the events of the night before and the morning. She continually pushed aside the more enjoyable details of the night, and tried to focus objectively on what had happened before they had sex. Had she taken advantage of Fleur? The mere thought of it pained her. Fleur had been in heat, arguably not in the right state of mind. But was Fleur angry at her this morning or the situation? Fleur said she knew that Hermione was affected by her thrall, but was that a cop-out on Hermione’s part? </p><p>True, the veela had enthralled her, but she ceased the thrall right before she had Hermione remove Fleur’s panties, and right before the deed itself. It had been Hermione’s decision to follow through on those actions. But was Hermione exactly in the right state of mind herself? Hermione felt sick. The guilt, the uncertainty, was gnawing at her insides. She should have done better. She did not act with honor or decency. She covered her face in shame. She could not shake the guilt from her head, her chest or her stomach, but she made her way out of bed and found some clothes to borrow from the wardrobe and then apparated to her flat in London. </p><p>It was a Saturday. As soon as she got home she sent out two owls. Harry and Ginny’s owl was waiting for her when she returned, reminding her about their dinner plans. She sent a letter back with the fowl canceling plans saying she felt ill. This wasn’t exactly a lie, as she did feel terrible. It seemed her emotions about the situation were manifesting physically, as she could not shake the terrible feeling of guilt from her body, and she was feeling weak. The next owl she sent was to Mrs. Weasley. The letter she wrote to Molly was more difficult. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to lie, but most certainly was not going to tell the woman the truth. ‘Dear Molly, I found Fleur. She was in a state, so we shagged each other’s brains out. No idea where she is now, as she appeared full of regret and disgust this morning before she fled.’ No, that letter wouldn’t do. What could she say? She didn’t want to say Fleur was fine, because she wasn’t fine. She didn’t want to say Fleur was not well, because then she would have to explain, or Molly would show up to an empty cottage, or worse, a not-empty cottage if Fleur returned. And then would she tell Molly about Hermione’s shameful actions? The witch felt like she was going to throw up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Molly, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I stopped by Fleur’s last night. She seemed to still be struggling. We spoke and she decided a change of scenery would be good for her. She said she would owl you when she got back. </em>
</p><p>-<em> Hermione </em></p><p> </p><p>It was not a truthful letter, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. Fleur said she would owl Hermione, so perhaps Hermione would ask her to reach out to Mrs. Weasley after they sorted out whatever happened between them. Deciding to shower (she had worked up quite a sweat last night. <em> Last night! The shame! </em>), Hermione made her way to the bathroom and undressed. It took her a minute or two, but she finally found the willpower to look at herself in the mirror. What a shockingly pitiful sight. </p><p>Hermione’s face was unusually pale. She was sweating and her hair was a mess. She must really be catching something. Her terrible appearance must have played a part in Fleur’s disgust. That perfectly beautiful woman looked stunning even after a night of vigorous shagging. Even when frantically trying to escape. Hermione noticed a mark on her neck. She remembered the veela had bitten her, and asked her to do the same. <em> Weird kink</em>, but Hermione couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy it. Hermione felt a wave of weakness and nausea overcome her. She grasped the edges of the sink to steady herself. Her hands were shaking. After her shower she would take some pepper up potion. </p><p>A few hours later she was awoken by a tapping at her window. A majestic white owl was asking to be let in. She didn’t remember falling asleep. With great effort Hermione got off of the couch she fell asleep on, made her way to the window and let the owl in. It settled on her kitchen table and held its leg out. Hermione traded the owl some treats for a letter and small package. It flew away before she even had the letter opened. The envelope was sealed with wax stamped with an elegant ‘D.’ <em> That was fast,</em> the witch thought to herself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hermione, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I have arranged for a permit for your floo to be used for international travel for today, Saturday, April 2, 2001. The permit will remain in effect for travel to France for one day, ending Sunday, April 3, 2001 at 12:00 noon. See the attached copy of the permit for more details. Immediately come to Delecour Manor when you receive this letter, please. Simply state, “Delacour Manor.” The chocolate truffles will help with your symptoms.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -Fleur I. Delacour </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione was confused. This morning was terribly awkward, but did it warrant international travel to Fleur’s home for a conversation? Was Fleur so shaken up she went all the way to France? She must be feeling violated by Hermione. What else would warrant such an urgent request? How did she get approval for international travel on a Saturday? How did she know Hermione was feeling ill? Truffles? Indeed, when she opened the small package there were half a dozen chocolates for her. How would chocolates help an illness? Was Fleur not mad at her? What women sent chocolates to someone they were upset with? Could this be a romantic gesture? <em> No, absolutely not.</em> The letter was far from sweet. Although last night Fleur did ask Hermione to be her...her....mate? Is that what she called it? Were they girlfriends? That seemed very unlikely as they had spoken very few times since the war, and they hardly knew each other really. That paired with Fleur’s complete regret this morning that anything at all happened between them made it likely that even if that was what the veela meant, she most certainly didn’t mean it anymore. Hermione herself would never have said ‘yes,’ to such a proposition. Fleur was gorgeous, mysterious, poised, intelligent...it’s not like Hermione wouldn’t date someone like Fleur. Or Fleur herself. Truth be told, she used to have a crush on the blonde. But they didn’t know each other. She said yes in the heat of the moment because she was under the influence of absolute sexual ecstasy. A migraine began to set in. She made some tea. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Fleur walked out of Hermione’s fireplace and into the brunette’s living room. Hermione jolted awake. </p><p>“Why did you ignore my letter?” Fleur began without preamble. “It is imperative that you come with me now.” </p><p>“Fleur, I’m sorry. I meant to, but I don’t think I’m well enough for travel. I must have passed out.” Hermione did look worse for wear. Fleur scoffed. </p><p>“That is why I told you to eat the chocolate truffles,” Fleur rolled her eyes. She did not have time for this, for someone who couldn’t follow simple directions. </p><p>“What are you doing here anyway? And what made you think it was ok to just floo into my home without being invited? How did you even manage that?” Hermione was sitting up straighter on the couch now, eyebrows furrowed. She was gathering herself together enough to be upset. A good sign. Her face was pale and she looked weak. A bad sign. </p><p>“Where are the chocolates?” She asked, ignoring Hermione’s questions. Before the brunette could answer, Fleur spotted them on a nearby side table and went to them. She opened the package and sat down next to the witch and handed one to her. “Eat.” Hermione opened her mouth to object, but Fleur took that opportunity to pop a chocolate into the brunette’s mouth. She pressed a finger to the young witch’s lips, effectively shutting her up. “Non. Eat first, then questions.” Hermione looked disgruntled, but complied. Her forehead began to relax. Fleur handed her another one, which Hermione took without complaint. Four chocolates in and the Gryffindor was no longer sweating. Fleur was tapping her foot impatiently. She had already waited too long for this meeting. </p><p>“Do you want one?” Hermione offered. Fleur looked at her in confusion. “It’s just that, well, you don’t look too hot yourself.” Fleur glared at the woman, offended. She had been consuming them throughout the day. Did she really look so terrible? She of course did not feel well, but she thought she was fairing alright considering. Perhaps Hermione would let her hold her hand. It would do them both good.</p><p>“No thank you, but,” Fleur hesitated. “May I hold your hand?” Hermione’s face was a portrait of scepticism. Fleur kept her features schooled and reached for the brunette. As their hands touched she immediately began to feel the effects. She felt her temperature begin to cool and the ache in her chest begin to recede. The two women both sighed in relief. </p><p>“Are you ready to go, Hermione?” Fleur asked with more kindness in her voice than she had used thus far. Hermione looked at her warily. “Please. Just trust me.” And with that, they were on their way to France. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione and Fleur walked into Delacour Manor hand-in-hand, though Fleur immediately let go once they were a few steps out of the fireplace. </p><p>“Bonjour et bienvenue," greeted a woman sitting on the sofa in the parlor. She was undoubtedly related to Fleur in some way. They looked similar, but this woman was older, with longer hair and emerald eyes. Beautiful. Regal.</p><p>"Mother, thank you for waiting for us. This is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is my mother, Apolline Delacour." The older veela stood up during the introductions and approached the pair. She gave Hermione the customary French greeting of kissing her once on each cheek and Hermione kept her blush at bay. She wasn’t sure why she was meeting Fleur’s mother. She just wanted to talk with Fleur, in private, apologize and clear the air. </p><p>“I trust you are feeling better now, Hermione?” Apolline asked. Hermione scrunched her eyebrows, wondering how the older veela knew she hadn’t been feeling well. And how Fleur had for that matter. But, when prepared to answer, she found she did feel better. The nausea subsided, her hands weren’t shaking, and those aches in her chest had disappeared. </p><p>“Er, yes. Actually, I am. How did you-” Hermione started but Apolline chuckled and waved off the witch’s question. </p><p>“Fleur was struggling this morning as well. I don’t know why she didn’t bring you in the first place. She should have known-”</p><p>“Mother!” Fleur interrupted. “I am going to talk to Hermione now.” Fleur’s voice had a warning edge to it. Apollone just smirked with an eyebrow raised. </p><p>“I will be around if you require any assistance with settling in, Hermione.” Apolline said while still eyeing Fleur. </p><p>“Settling in?” How long did she expect their conversation to take? Did Fleur tell her mother about what happened? Why wasn’t Apolline mad at her for taking advantage of her daughter and fucking her while she was in heat? </p><p>“Oui, Ms. Granger. I imagine you will be with us for some time. One of the house elves has prepared a guest room for you, but of course you don’t have to stay in there if you would prefer to-” </p><p>“Enough! Mother, please. Just let me speak with Hermione first. She has no idea what is going on. This is probably overwhelming her.” Fleur interjected. Hermione scowled. She did not like Fleur talking about her as if she wasn’t in the room, but Fleur wasn’t wrong. Still, she hadn’t even looked at Hermione since they arrived. </p><p>“And whose fault is that? Very well. I will give you two some space and see you later for dinner.” And with that, Apolline glided out of the room, closing heavy double doors behind her. Hermione turned to Fleur expectantly, but the veela still wasn’t looking at her. </p><p>“Fleur. I have questions. A great deal of them.” Hermione was trying very hard not to unleash the floodgates of questions she had. She was trying to be patient. This whole situation felt very strange and it didn’t make sense, but she was still feeling guilty about what had happened the night before. Fleur finally turned to the brunette. Taking a deep breath, she gestured to a sofa. </p><p>“Would you like to have a seat? This may take a while.” </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione was sitting at the desk in the guest bedroom. She had been given a book. Most of which she couldn’t read because she had not completed a ‘bonding ritual’ with Fleur. It was infuriating to say the least. Fleur had given her the book when Hermione unleashed question after question in disbelief of what the blonde had told her. Fleur had delivered a polished lecture on mates (not girlfriends), but seemed just as overwhelmed as Hermione was. Hermione was overwhelmed. And confused. And frustrated. Fleur did not answer all of her questions, and many of the answers she did provide were vague, and led to more. The veela was impatient and cold the whole conversation. She appeared bothered by many of the brunette’s queries. Hermione didn’t feel like that was fair, it was not as if she had grown up in veela culture. She wasn’t stupid, she just didn’t know. There was no way for her to have known about any of this, so of course she had questions. A great deal of them. </p><p>They had made a grave mistake. That was the number one takeaway it seemed Fleur was trying to drill into Hermione. Although Hermione in no way would have taken the prior night’s actions had she been aware of the consequences, but hearing Fleur reiterate that sentiment over and over left a terrible feeling in her stomach. She looked down at the notes she had taken during their conversation and skimmed through them. </p><p>They were partially ‘bonded,’ but their steps were out of order. </p><p> </p>
<ul>
<li><em>Veela in human form kisses potential mate; start of process. Drawn to each other. Courting. Potential mate educated on bonding; can consent to continue or reject</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Marking during sex; veela partially transformed; occurs after potential mate accepts bond and when veela deems potential mate worthy. Intense pull to each other; being apart causes pain and illness; rejecting bond not an option</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Bonding ceremony; blood magic; magic joins; can be apart; transformation</em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Hermione and Fleur had never kissed, let alone courted. Hermione was never educated about this process. And Fleur’s, in Hermione’s opinion, inadequate explanation and answers coupled with her attitude enraged the Gryffindor. This was her life, her future. She had to have a choice, but it seemed like her choice was taken from her. That couldn’t be true. Was any of this true? Fleur assured her it was. Hermione was so angry at the situation, the lack of transparency, Fleur’s icy demeanor, and just everything, that she got up, tossed floo powder into the fireplace and fled back to her flat. She returned approximately 4 minutes later when the ache and nausea were unbearable. Fleur was curled up on the couch in pain waiting for her. Hermione ambled over, sat next to her, and then laid her head on the veela so that they would find relief from the ache of not being close enough. They stayed like that until dinner, and then went to their separate rooms. Fleur told Hermione before they parted that she was determined to find a way to stop the bonding process, and enlisted Hermione’s help in researching how to do so. Hermione agreed. But the one book she had was useless. And her notes were insufficient. She was getting a headache. </p><p>Apolline had visited Hermione’s room some time later. She was kind and listened to the young witch lament about what had transpired. It was the fact that they took the second step before the first that had concerned the older veela. She said she had to speak with some of the clan elders about the impact this would have on the two. When Hermione tried to get answers from Apoline, the woman directed her to talk to Fleur. Before she left the young witch for the evening, Apolline tried to reassure her.</p><p>
  <em> “Hermione,” Apolline started. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now because of the way things are happening, but this is really a blessing. Finding a mate, for the veela and the partner, is such a blessing, and it happens by no accident or cruel twist of fate. Fleur’s veela chose you. That’s not something to take lightly. This really could be the most wonderful thing to happen for both of you if you let it.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione was tossing and turning under the covers. Although she did not feel as sick as she did earlier, being apart from Fleur even when they were in the same house was causing her physical distress. And possibly emotional distress. Her mind was determined to focus on Fleur. Images of her beauty, of their physical intimacy together, her prowess during the Triwizard Tournament, her skill and cunning during the war, and even moments when Fleur was caring for her at Shell Cottage all those years ago, were playing on a loop in her head. She was annoyed with how Fleur had spoken to her earlier and was handling the situation, but she found she was was craving her nevertheless. Craving closeness, touch, connection, opportunities to unravel the mysteries of Fleur. Craving the things their bodies did to each other. The sweet, carnal, sinful things they did. She was starting to get hard. There was a knock at the door. </p><p>“Come in,” Hermione called as she sat up. It was dark in the room, but the moonlight was shining strong enough for her to see a naked and partially transformed Fleur enter. White plumage over her cheeks, in her hair, down her shoulders, with a short trail down her arms. The witch was speechless. This was not good timing. </p><p>“Hermione, I am sorry to have kept you waiting. You must be having trouble sleeping with the effects of our distance. I could feel you. I can feel you now.” The veela strode toward the bed without hesitation, settled next to Hermione, and cooed “Would you like me to take away the pain?”</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Merlin.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Hot and Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione continues to ask questions and for once gets some answers. Fleur finds herself all over the place.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The veela leaned into Hermione’s neck to lick the still healing mark. Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed, but when she felt the veela’s hand start to stroke her cock through her pants she quickly shuffled back on the bed. </p><p>“Wait, just. Wait.” Hermione was breathing hard and the veela had barely touched her. Her rational mind was trying to get a handle on the situation, but her body was responding to Fleur. Her body, her mind, knew what intoxicating pleasure Hermione and Fleur could bring each other, but too many things had happened today, and the peculiar 180 that Fleur was pulling right now was the cherry on top. The veela advanced.</p><p>“Are we playing hard to get?” She asked with a devious smile.</p><p>“No! No, we are not playing hard to get. What is wrong with you?” Hermione scolded. Fleur looked at her confused. </p><p>“I do not understand. You are aroused, last night we marked each other, I promised to sleep with you every night if you so wished, and you very enthusiastically agreed. What has changed?” Fleur’s voice indicated that she had no idea why Hermione might be conflicted. </p><p>“Fleur, really? What has changed? You mean besides you?” Hermione scoffed in disbelief. “In the past 24 hours I found you in heat, you practically threw yourself at me, we had sex all night-”</p><p>“Amazing sex.”</p><p>“Yes, amazing sex, and then you fled from me in the morning, demanded I come to France, treated me like, like-”</p><p>“A complete bitch.”</p><p>“Yes, a complete bitch, said repeatedly that you do not want this between us, and are now here in my bed again. This has been more than a little upsetting.” The witch was exasperated. </p><p>“So let me make it up to you,” Fleur scooted closer. Hermione backed up again. </p><p>“Fleur Isabelle Delacour, you need to explain yourself and your actions or you can’t, we can’t-” Hermione gestured between them. </p><p>“Fuck?” The veela panned. </p><p>“Precisely.” Hermione watched as Fleur’s feathers ruffled at this. </p><p>“That was Fleur, but it was not me.” The veela stated as if that answered everything sufficiently. </p><p>“You’re not Fleur?” Hermione’s eyebrow was raised. </p><p>“I am Fleur, but also I am not Fleur. I am her veela.” Silence. Fleur took a breath before trying again. “Fleur and I are one and the same, but also separate. I am her inner veela. The Fleur that treated you so poorly during the day was her human side.”</p><p>“Fleur tried to explain this to me earlier. Forgive me...Fleur...but it is just a concept I am having trouble grasping. It sounds like philosophical nonsense. No offense.” Hermione winced at her own words. She perhaps should have been more tactful, but she had tried being that way throughout the day and it got her nowhere. </p><p>“You will understand it more in time. It is not a familiar concept to humans. It is not like this, but I will put it like this so that you can get a better idea, mm? When you see me like this, with feathers, it is the veela, and the human is inside with me, but in the background. And when you see Fleur with no feathers, and her beautiful blue eyes, it is the human with me in the background. We are always with each other, but one side takes control at different times.” </p><p>Hermione digested the information that Fleur had given her. She could grasp the concept, but it did bother her that Fleur said it wasn’t an exact explanation. “So, you have separate thoughts and feelings?” </p><p>“We are in sync with most things, but we have independent thoughts and feelings, yes.  I can feel and hear hers, and she can hear and feel mine. We have discussions. We mostly work to create a harmony within us. To act within our best interests,” Fleur elaborated.</p><p>“Mostly?” Hermione caught that keyword. </p><p>“Mostly. For example, her resistance to this bonding is not aligned with my own thoughts and feelings, but I act in our best interest and here I am, trying to fulfill my promise to you.” Fleur grinned at the last part and bit her lip. That sent a jolt of arousal through the brunette. <em> Stay focused, stay focused.  </em></p><p>“Er, uhm, I see. Uhm.” Hermione swallowed, trying to maintain composure as Fleur inched forward. “Would either of you ever do something that would, well, hurt the other one? Physically or emotionally? Uhm.” Hermione was embarrassed at the amount of stammering she was doing as she tried to beat around the bush. This was not her. The blonde had a way of bringing her mind to ruin. Gone was the well-spoken, brave, logical and intelligent woman, and instead was a stammering, simple-minded, nervous and lusty mess.  </p><p>“No. What are you trying to ask?” Apparently Fleur decided to cut through the bullshit. Hermione let out a sigh, preparing herself to ask the question she had been too much of a coward to ask human-Fleur all day. </p><p>“Last night when we had sex, you were in heat. I know you wanted it and consented-”</p><p>“Yes, and I loved it. And I consent right now for more!” Fleur’s eyes widened with glee and she moved closer. The brunette put her hands up to slow the veela’s advances, and Fleur surprisingly did not fight her.  Hermione looked into her eyes and gently brushed her hand through feathers and blonde locks. She wasn’t sure what prompted her to be affectionate, to reassure the French woman, but she hadn’t second guessed the impulse. </p><p>“Right, right, and I loved it too. Very much. <em> Very </em>much. But I have been worried about... Human-Fleur? I feel as if I took advantage, considering your state. In heat you were vulnerable. I can’t help but think human-Fleur would not have consented.” There, she got it out. She was flushed and tense, fearful of the answer. </p><p>“Human-Fleur, as you call her, would not have initiated anything,” Hermione deflated at these words, dropped her hand from Fleur, and hung her head down. “But it was me last night. My body. And Human-Fleur was there, inside me. She did not say ‘no.’ She could have, but she did not.” At this Hermione looked back up at the veela, hopeful. When she met the veela’s eyes they were black. </p><p>“She could have said no?” </p><p>“Oui.”</p><p>“But she didn’t?”</p><p>“Non.”</p><p>“Your eyes are beautiful too, you know,” Hermione told the veela. Fleur looked at her curiously. “You said Human-Fleur has beautiful blue eyes. And she does. But, your eyes too. They’re deep and beautiful. Did you know that?” <em> Is Fleur blushing? </em>There was a moment between them.</p><p>“Thank you, cherie. Now, I believe there have been enough questions for tonight, oui? I want to properly thank you for taking care of me last night and accepting my mark.” Fleur closed the distance between the two and pushed Hermione onto her back before bringing her hands to Hermione’s pajama pants. The Gryffindor’s body and so much of her mind urged her to give in, flooding her with images and sensations of the night before. Her member was at full attention and stood almost proudly as the veela pulled her pants off. </p><p>“Does Fleur, Human-Fleur, want this?” Hermione panted out. The French woman was on her hands and knees between the brunette’s legs. The moonlight made her feathers glow, made black eyes shine. She watched as more plumes blossomed across Fleur. </p><p>“I want this,” and with that Fleur grasped Hermione’s shaft in hand and ran her tongue from base to tip of her cock. </p><p>“Oh, goddess!” Hermione gasped out. She was not expecting that. It felt amazing, and Fleur did it again. Hermione moaned in reflex. <em> Does Human-Fleur want to-- “ </em>Oh, fuck! “ All thoughts were drowned out as Fleur’s lips wrapped around the head of Hermione’s dick, before withdrawing and then going back down and taking more of the witch into her mouth. Hermione’s legs were already trembling. Her hands shot to Fleur’s hair, but she quickly withdrew them. </p><p>“Don’t ever hold yourself back with me, ma moitié.” The veela reached up to Hermione’s hand and brought it to the back of her head. She smirked and turned her attention back to the cock in front of her. It was quite large, and Hermione watched Fleur take in a little over half of it in her mouth, then use her hand to start pumping the lower half that her mouth wasn’t reaching. Hermione hissed and groaned. <em> Jesus Christ. </em>Fingers clenched in Fleur’s hair and feathers. Fleur let out a low growl and began to bob her head up and down the Gryffindor’s dick. Her hands, her mouth, the vibrations from the growl. Hermione’s life was at risk for an aneurysm. A sweet sweet death it would be. Fleur continued and Hermione began to gently lift her hips in time with Fleur’s oral ministrations. Hermione kept throwing her head back in pleasure, only to snap it back up to take in the fantastic sight of Fleur giving her the blowjob of her life. It was hypnotizing. Watching the blonde eagerly take her into her mouth, the warmth that surrounded her, the way her tongue…</p><p>“I’m close!” Hermione didn’t even care that she was going to be coming so quickly. It had only been a few minutes, but the whole day had been full of stress and tension and discomfort, interlaced with urge and desire for Fleur. Finally being able to let go, to give in, was heavenly. <em> Maybe Apolline was right </em>. This was worth it. Fleur Delacour consuming her, her shagging Fleur and them orgasming together. This was heaven. Hermione fisted two hands in the veela’s hair, now trying to hold off her impending climax so that she could enjoy this for as long as possible. But then Fleur changed things up. She withdrew the young witch’s cock from her mouth, lightly brushed her full bottom lip on the underside of the head, then swirled her tongue a few times like so, and then took Hermione deeply in her mouth again, hands still working her shaft. Again. Again. A familiar warmth and tightness was building inside the Gryffindor, and she tried to pull Fleur off of her. “Fleur, stop, I’m going to come, I’m  going to come!” But Fleur locked eyes with Hermione before pinning her hips down and descending her mouth further and further onto Hermione’s dick, deeper than she had yet, and swallowed Hermione’s eruption. </p><p>Hermione went temporarily deaf and blind. All she saw was white. All she heard was a distant ringing in her ears The ecstasy was almost painful. No one had ever done that to her before. Put their mouth on her like that. Drank her in like that. She stopped breathing. After several moments she let out a long, low groan as Fleur continued to stroke her down from her high. Her body was shaking. </p><p>“You are delicious, ma moitié.” Fleur was smiling as she crawled up Hermione’s body and laid on top of her. Hermione was still breathing heavily, recovering from the veela’s talented mouth. </p><p>“What does that mean? Moitié?” She asked as she began to run her hands through the veela’s hair. Fleur purred. </p><p>“It means ‘my other half.’ That is who you are.” She nuzzled her face into Hermione’s neck, lazily licking her mark. </p><p>“Moitié,” Hermione repeated in a whisper. <em> Ok. </em> She was still running her hands through the blonde’s hair when she noticed the plumage disappearing until she had a naked, featherless veela in her arms. “Fleur?” She asked tentatively. But the woman had already fallen asleep. Hermione smiled and allowed herself to drift off as well. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>For the second morning in a row Fleur woke up naked on top of Hermione. <em> Damn my veela. </em> She silently crept out of the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping girl, and headed to her room. </p><p>“Bonjour ma précieuse fille,” Apolline appeared at the top of the grand staircase, smile as wide as a Cheshire cat’s. “Did you have a good evening with your mate?” She asked the naked woman. Fleur’s cheeks tinged pink. </p><p>“Mother. For your information I did not spend the night with Hermione.” Fleur said calmly, determined to maintain some kind of dignity in the situation. </p><p>“Non?” Apolline took a sip of coffee from her mug. “It does look that way, you must admit.” </p><p>“Non. It was my veela that spent the night with her. I had nothing to do with it,” Fleur replied, nose in the air, before she resumed her walk of shame to her bedroom. </p><p>“That is a shame,” the older veela called after her. “Because it sounded like they had a lovely time. You really missed out!” She was answered with a slam of a bedroom door. Apolline chuckled as she headed down to the kitchen to refill her mug. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione and Fleur saw each other at breakfast. There was a thick tension in the air. Hermione was trying to be pleasant and break the ice. She asked how Fleur slept, how she was feeling, and what she wanted to do that day. </p><p>“Let’s just get to the research, oui? We do not have to do this.” Fleur was in no mood for small talk. She just wanted them to pretend that last night didn’t happen. </p><p>“Do what? Be civil to each other?” Hermione was not going to tolerate Fleur’s attitude so patiently today. She had tolerated enough yesterday. They were both in the same boat. And if Veela-Fleur was correct, then it was not as if Fleur didn’t want or enjoy last night. Why did she have to be such a brat?</p><p>“Hermione,” Fleur put down her cup of tea and finally made eye contact with the brunette. “I do not want to do this, ok? I just want to focus on figuring a way out of our predicament.” Hermione’s temperature was rising. Where did Fleur get off speaking to her that way? </p><p>“And you think I don’t? This is not all about you, Fleur. It is my future- my life!- too!” Hermione spat out, before muttering “and it’s not as if you had a problem with being my mate last night.”</p><p>“Excusez-moi?” Fleur squeaked. </p><p>“You heard me,” Hermione taunted back, feeling smug that she was getting under the veela’s skin. </p><p>“You have no idea what you are talking about. How dare you!” yelled the veela as she stood up from the table, knocking her chair to the floor.</p><p>“Fleur, well, Veela-Fleur, told me last night. She explained more to me in 10 minutes than you did over the course of the whole evening. You are one and the same.” </p><p>“You are an ignorant fool. You cannot listen to her simplistic explanations. You do not and will never understand veela.” Fleur slammed her hands down on the table. It was then that Apolline appeared. </p><p>“Ladies, ladies. Sunday is a day of rest. Not a day of conflict. Fleur, contain yourself. Hermione is not only your chosen mate, but our guest.” Apolline called for a house elf, Teeny, to bring a platter of chocolate covered strawberries. “We must make the best of this situation. You must both put your egos aside. Trust your heart, trust your gut.” Fleur and Hermione both rolled their eyes. Hermione, although she did not believe in fate or true love, felt a part of herself begging to be open to what Apolline had to say. </p><p>“And Fleur, even though you have every right to be upset, you must treat our guest with hospitality and respect. I raised you better than this. I know you are conflicted about Bill right now, but he just wasn’t your mate. And you knew that. That is why you never marked him or had children. And now he is gone. But do not hold that against Hermione. Your veela chose her for a reason. You will do well to remember that.” Hermione’s eyes went wide. She absolutely felt this was a conversation she did not have the right to bear witness to. She watched as Fleur’s eyes filled with tears before she stormed out of the room.</p><p>“Was it something I said?” Apolline asked Hermione. What was wrong with this woman? It seemed the mother-daughter pair both had some kind of emotional awareness deficit. </p><p>“No matter. Hermione, please take the strawberries with you. Brain food for your research. And, about Fleur, she is not completely detached from her veela’s desires and needs. She just requires time. She is still hurting, but she won’t talk to me. Perhaps you could provide her with a sympathetic ear, some comfort?” Hermione nodded slowly. “And one more thing before you go, Hermione. I know you both are prepared to pour over texts for hours upon hours, but I’m telling you this now. Even if Fleur is refusing to accept it, there is no chance for this bond to be broken. You took the second step. That is a step no marked couple can go back on. For as long as you both refuse to accept this, you will be miserable and stuck in this stage of the bonding process.”</p><p>Hermione contemplated Apolline’s words on her way to the library. When she opened the door she saw Fleur curled onto a loveseat with her nose in a book; her heart rate picked up. She walked over to the blonde and offered her hand. Fleur took it, and Hermione kneeled in front of her.  </p><p>“Are you alright? Is there anything you need from me?” the younger witch asked, trying to convey an open and warm presence. Fleur looked at her with apprehension. “I know you want me to help you research, and I will. But, is there anything else you need? Something else you want that would help you feel better?”</p><p>“What makes you think I need something other than a way out of this bond to feel better?” Fleur asked defensively. </p><p>“I could feel you. I feel you now.” Hermione echoed the words spoken to her the night before. Fleur was taken aback. She analyzed Hermione for a few moments before she softened and stroked her thumb across the back of her hand. </p><p>“Just help me. Please.” A timid but desperate request to the Gryffindor. Hermione found she could not say ‘no’ to the veela.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t take long before they were bickering again. “How am I supposed to help if I can only read a fraction of any of these books?” Hermione demanded. Fleur was tired, Hermione was tired. It had been hours of almost fruitless research. Fleur had been reigning in her infamous temper all morning.</p><p>“I cannot help what you can or cannot read. Are you the ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age’ or not? I already told you that I am not in control of these things. It is ancient veela magic. There are things you will not be able to decipher until we are bonded. I am not holding knowledge back from you.” Fleur did not like repeating herself, but Hermione seemed insistent on the idea that Fleur held some secret power to translate the ancient tomes they were going through.  “Just do what you can with what is available to you.” </p><p>“Bloody hell,” muttered Hermione. She continued to read what she could and take notes. </p><p>Fleur took a bite of a strawberry while she observed the other witch. She was flipping through pages and pages of texts, writing down what she thought was important. She had smudges of ink on the sides of her hands. She took another bite. Hermione had become more confident and less high strung through the years. She carried herself differently. She had changed, but she was still the intelligent, capable and caring woman that Fleur remembered. She was being too hard on Hermione for things the Gryffindor had no control over. She knew that. But she had to be that way for Hermione's own good. Still, she could be kinder. </p><p>“Perhaps we are due for a break.” Fleur suggested. She settled upon the sofa and held out her arm for Hermione to follow suit and come closer. The brunette seemed hesitant. “The contact will do us good. I do not know about you, but I already feel mentally fatigued.” She first took a moment to consider, before making her way over to the sofa and settling against Fleur, immediately relaxing when she laid her head upon her shoulder. She snaked an arm around her waist. Fleur permitted herself to relish in the feeling. </p><p>“Fleur, do you hate me?” Hermione asked. What a ridiculous question. It was so far from the truth. She wanted to make some snarky remark back, but she felt her veela reject that idea. </p><p>"No, Hermione. I do not hate you." Fleur replied evenly. “Of course I do not hate you,” Fleur rubbed Hermione’s arm. “You fool.” </p><p>Apolline found them on the couch together. Fleur’s hand was playing with Hermione’s hair absently. “What a beautiful sight to see,” the older woman greeted them. </p><p>“Mother,” Fleur withdrew her hands from the girl and sat up. Hermione frowned. “We were just-”</p><p>“No need to explain yourself to me! I won’t be long. I just wanted to drop off some lunch. Teeny made some oysters and scalloped sweet potatoes.”</p><p>“That sounds delicious,” the brunette made her way over to alleviate Apolline of their lunch platter. “Thank you.” Apolline excused herself excitedly with a smile stretching from ear to ear. Fleur turned her attention to Hermione. The witch had taken out her wand and transfigured the coffee table into a small dining table and arranged their lunch. She then accioed a footrest and a nearby ottoman before transfiguring them into chairs. Hermione pulled out one chair and gestured for Fleur to sit, “are you ready for lunch?” <em> Chivalrous. </em>Fleur made her way over to Hermione, thought on it for a moment, and then decided to lean in and kiss Hermione on the cheek. It was at that moment that Apolline reappeared with a bottle of red in her hands. </p><p>“I almost forgot the wine! How silly- Oh!” She giggled. “I did not mean to interrupt. Please, do not let me disturb you.” She set the wine down on the table before scurrying to the door. She opened it, threw a glance back at the pair and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. And then she was gone. </p><p>“Bon appétit,” Hermione smiled awkwardly and chuckled. But Fleur had already again turned cold. Face hard and unreadable, and in no mood for small talk.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Her Honest Mouth Was There</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'll be honest, I'm not entirely confident about this chapter. I felt like it was both too much and not enough. Maybe a little forced? But it's what came out, so here we are. If you provide a thoughtful critique about what can be improved I could adjust the chapter. All mistakes are mine. 5 points to your house if you spot one and let me know.<br/>Anyway: There's drama in the library, and Apolline continues to try to slyly stuff the women with aphrodisiacs.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lunch was a mostly silent affair. Fleur had shut down, and it was understandable to Hermione. And it gave Hermione a chance to think about everything. Over the past two days she had hardly found a moment alone to process this extreme development in her life. She hadn’t had the emotional capacity to think about how this was going to impact her, how she was going to move forward, and the possible outcomes of their different options. She hadn't had the ability to focus, with a certain French veela invading her thoughts and orbiting her presence.</p><p>Apolline had told her it would be impossible to break the bond. Hermione was not sure she believed that. There was a science to magic. It was something that could be studied, analyzed, broken down, tested, controlled and understood. Hermione firmly believed that. And if that was true, which she believed it was, then binding magic could be understood, controlled and undone. In theory. But she knew she would be awfully arrogant to assume that she could solve this problem, break this magic rooted and strengthened over thousands of years, and that veelas could not. And even if she could, how long would it take? More than hours in the library, especially when she didn’t have access to most of the information. More than days, weeks, probably more than months. It could be years. It could be half a lifetime, because there was no data. Nothing concrete. No studies on this in any wizarding journal. No wizarding texts. And the veela, even if they had information on this (and why would they, it was an accepted way of life, it seemed), there is no way they would give Hermione, an unbonded witch, access to any of it. And as long as it would take to find release from this predicament, Fleur and Hermione would be in this limbo where neither could travel too far, and both’s mental and physical energies would often try to pull focus away from anything but their mate. How could they live a life like that? So, Potential Outcome 1: Years of being physically, mentally and emotionally tied to a resistant and resentful veela for a possibility of being freed many years from now, probably derailing both of their personal and professional lives.</p><p>Hermione let her mind wander down another path, just for the sake of considering all options. She could accept the bond. They could complete the bonding process. The sooner they did that, the sooner the link between them would relent. They could walk away from each other, right? Hermione could see her friends, travel, engage in her hobbies, pursue her career, and so could Fleur. After the bonding ritual, Fleur had explained that they wouldn’t have to be practically glued to each other this way. It could be like a paper marriage. She needed more information on what exactly happened after the ritual. Potential Outcome 2: complete bonding, be free from this pervasive and intrusive link between Fleur, and be free to go about one’s own life. The only obstacle she foresaw was convincing Fleur and Apolline. There was obviously a huge cultural significance to this mate and bonding process that would be very difficult to look past. It would be an awkward conversation to have, and would require great tact and careful timing, but it was worth a shot, right?</p><p>She suddenly felt terribly nauseous and a migraine coming on. <em>It would not be honorable or decent to try to manipulate and pervert this bond.</em> Where was her cultural sensitivity? Where were her morals? <em>But this isn’t fair.</em> Her head started throbbing.</p><p>“Hermione?” The Gryffindor looked up and across the table to Fleur. The veela was holding her head; she looked pale. “Are you sick? What is happening?” Right, Fleur could feel her. Was the poor woman having to endure Hermione’s pain as Hermione was?</p><p>“I’m not sure. I just started feeling ill suddenly.” Fleur got up from her seat and rounded the table to the brunette.</p><p>“May I?" The veela stepped closer and offered out her hands.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Fleur reached forward and gently cradled Hermione’s face with both hands. She ran her fingers gently across her cheeks, then her forehead. Wove her fingers into brown locks before applying pressure and massaging. Hermione sighed at the sensations. They were so soothing, so soft and sweet. The pain was beginning to subside. Fleur withdrew her hands from Hermione’s hair and instead wrapped her arms around the brunette, pulling her into a close embrace and resting her head upon Hermione’s. Fleur hummed. The pain had subsided for Hermione, so she could only assume that it had for the veela as well, but Fleur didn’t let her go. Hermione felt her cheeks get hot and her heart beat thump faster, louder. This was nice. It was more than nice. Worried about ruining the moment, but feeling strangely compelled to, Hermione tentatively brought her arms up and around the blonde’s waist. Fingertips gently pressing into Fleur’s back. Fleur tensed. Hermione didn’t move. Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. Fleur relaxed. Hermione calmed. Fingertips traced circles on the blonde’s back. This was more than nice. How long could they stay like this? Hermione wondered, already anxious about the veela pulling away. At Delacour Manor, in the library, arms laced around each other, hearts syncing: this was the most at peace Hermione had felt in the past few days. <em>More than the past few days.</em> When was the last time she let herself be held? When was the last time she felt safe? Not any time after the war. Before the war? No, in fact the last time she felt safe this way was-</p><p>Fleur stepped back from Hermione. The brunette looked up at her with big, sad, brown eyes. Fleur chuckled.</p><p>“Hermione.”</p><p>“Yes, Fleur?”</p><p>“Thank you for being patient with me. I know I have not been easy. That all of this has not been easy.” Much to Hermione’s dismay, Fleur walked back around the table to return to her seat. She became quiet again, but was not exuding the icy demeanor from before. Feeling some confidence after the blonde had accepted Hermione’s embrace, the brunette decided to follow some of Apolline’s advice.</p><p>“I know this hasn’t been easy for you either. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, the things that have been running through your mind, or the complex emotions you may be having.” Fleur studied the younger witch over the rim of her wine glass before taking a sip and setting it down.</p><p>“Is this about what my mother said?”</p><p>“Partly.”</p><p>“She doesn’t know what she is talking about. She was out of line.” Fleur was getting upset, but the brunette was determined to keep the situation from escalating.</p><p>“I agree. She was out of line. That should have been a private conversation between the two of you. You must have felt vulnerable, exposed, to have someone talk about that part of your life in front of someone you barely know.” It was an uncomfortable and heavy silence that followed. Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. Fleur finished her glass. Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. Hermione did her best to keep her composure and mask the nervousness she felt of possibly bringing up the topic too soon. She picked up the bottle of wine, refilled Fleur’s glass and topped off her own.</p><p>“I do not barely know you, Hermione. But thank you for that.”</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Now you are crossing a line.” Fleur was closing up again. Hermione fidgeted.</p><p>“Listen, I didn’t mean to. And I am not trying to pry. It’s just, we are in this together aren’t we? And I think it would be best if we were on the same side. I was asking because I care about you. Once upon a time we fought side-by-side. I admired your intellect, your skill and your character then, and I’m open to getting to know you now. I believe at the very least we could try to be friends. Can we start there? Can we be in this together?” Fleur looked down and away, contemplating Hermione’s words.</p><p>“Fine. You are right. I apologize for being so defensive. There is just so much you do not know or understand, and that is not your fault. And there are things I do not know, things I have not processed. It is nobody’s fault, and I have been treating you like it is yours.” Fleur took a large gulp of her wine.</p><p>“I accept your apology. So, can we start over?” Hermione asked hopefully.</p><p>“Oui, let us start again.” At that, Teeny popped into the room with a tray of dessert.</p><p>“Mistress Apolline sends dessert. Dark chocolate pots de crème.” Teeny placed the tray on the table. “Voilà” and disapparated out of the room.</p><p>“Shall we eat on the sofa?” Hermione suggested. Fleur nodded in assent, both eager to get comfortable after their exhausting morning.</p><p>They began with small talk. Fleur was no longer at Gringott’s, but was now working independently as a consultant for the bank, as well as other organizations, for curse breaking. She did most of her work through owl or through communication via the floo network. She was also co-authoring a few articles and a textbook on the practice. Hermione was very impressed. Speaking of work, how was Hermione going to continue her position at the Department of Magical Creatures? Fleur suggested the same as her, through owl and floo. Apparently Apolline worked for the French Ministry and had a lot of influence. She would be able to ensure an open international floo connection. Hermione thought about it. It was not ideal, but something had to give. She could not bring Fleur along every day to the office. She sent a letter to the head of the department requesting the next day off and explained her need to work from ‘home.’ Family emergency in France. Family that needed tending to. Fleur told her to say they could contact Apolline if they had any questions. This could work for a short period of time, but Hermione needed to start thinking about what to do if their predicament lasted longer, and she was confident it would. They got into talking about Hermione’s position and the policy work she had been doing to remove discriminatory legislation against magical and part magical creatures in Britain.</p><p>So engrossed in their conversation were they that the chocolate pots de crème went mostly untouched until there was a lull in the conversation. It wasn’t awkward, but comfortable. Hermione took a spoonful and moaned in delight. Fleur was transfixed watching Hermione’s mouth, her lips, hearing that familiar sound. She felt herself getting warm. Hermione took another bite, and Fleur watched the entire sensual spectacle again, though disappointed this time that Hermione did not moan. After that bite, Hermione had some chocolate custard on her lip. <em>Adorable.</em></p><p>“Fleur, do you want it?”</p><p>“Pardon?” Fleur practically squeaked, cheeks growing hot.</p><p>“The pot de crème. You've hardly touched yours.”</p><p>Fleur looked down at her dessert, mostly to avoid looking at the witch. “Oh, well, it is good but I think I am full. Also, you have some chocolate. Right there,” Fleur gestured vaguely to Hermione’s lips.</p><p>“Oh,” Hermione giggled. “How embarrassing.” She traced her lips with her tongue to clean up the chocolate.</p><p>A fire lit low in Fleur’s belly. The heat traveled lower. She let a low growl slip out. Once she realized what she had done, she turned her face away from Hermione and gathered her hair to one side, focusing on and playing with the ends. <em>Just play it cool.</em></p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“I do not know what you are talking about, cherie.” Fantastic. Fleur was apparently no longer in control of the things that came out of her mouth. She had not meant to use a term of endearment when addressing her mate. She was sure her cheeks were red at this point.</p><p>“Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” Hermione asked. <em>Damn their connection.</em></p><p>“Perhaps it is the wine.”</p><p>“Yes, I suppose that could be it.” Hermione replied, even though she herself hadn’t even finished her first glass. “Fleur, your mark looks raw. I don’t think it’s healing properly.” Fleur did not realize that when she moved her hair to the side that she must have exposed her neck, and thus her mark, to Hermione. She had been trying to keep that covered. “Here, let me get that for you.” The young witch took out her wand, ready to perform an episkey, but Fleur shook her head and finally willed herself to look at Hermione.</p><p>“That won’t work, it is your mark.” She felt her inner veela purrr at that.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” Hermione inquired, concern lacing her features.</p><p>“Not really…”</p><p>“But?”</p><p>“Well, it does feel a little irritated, and sometimes itches, but really it is fine.” Hermione didn’t look convinced. They sat there awkwardly until Fleur couldn’t take it anymore and accioed some books on veela. “Shall we continue?”</p><p>Hermione was having a hard time concentrating on the content of the book in front of her. Besides the fact that she could only read a small portion of the information within it (enchantments prevented anyone from being able to read most of it unless they were a veela or bonded to one, Fleur explained.) she was for some reason flushed and warm, and also she was very distracted by Fleur. She kept peeking over the top of the book and glancing at the blonde. More specifically her neck. The mark Hermione gave her veela. The brunette felt a pleasant shiver run down her spine at the thought of Fleur having her mark. A claim. She shook those thoughts from her head and returned her attention to her book, only to have that strange urge within her to look back at the blonde’s neck. Her mark. She felt compelled to- <em>No. No, no, no.</em> She clenched her eyes shut and cut her thoughts off. <em>That is just ridiculous. Crazy. But...</em>there was just something inside of her pushing her to-</p><p>“What is it?” Fleur broke through Hermione’s thoughts. The Gryffindor looked at Fleur confused. “You look anxious and you keep staring at me. Out with it.” The veela closed her book and gave Hermione her full attention.</p><p>“It’s nothing, really.” Fleur glared at her. “Well, I mean it<em> is</em> something but, I don’t know how to explain it. I’m worried it’s going to make me sound quite strange.” The witch had closed her book as well and was absently running her fingers up and down the spine.</p><p>“We have started over, correct? We can be open and honest with each other. That is the only way we are going to come through this. I am open to you. Go ahead, tell me. We live in a very strange world. I will not judge you.” Fleur folded her hands in her lap and waited for Hermione to explain.</p><p>“Well,” Hermione took a deep breath. Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. Swallow. “Fleur, may I...I have this urge, I can’t explain it, and it is probably crossing a boundary, and I do respect you and I don’t want to cross any boundaries, but I can’t shake it, this feeling and,” Fleur waited patiently while Hermione rambled. “And well, I want to, may I...I...I just feel the need to lick your neck. My mark on your neck.” Silence. Hermione felt the mortification at stating that aloud begin to set in. Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat.</p><p>“Yes, I suppose you should.” Fleur stated calmly, looking down. She missed Hermione’s very charming moment of letting her mouth drop and hang open. “It won’t heal until you tend to it.” Fleur slowly looked back up at Hermione, who had managed to close her mouth but was looking at Fleur incredulously.</p><p>Hermione was shocked. She thought Fleur would call her crazy, or disgusting, or both. But when Fleur said Hermione could act on this urge, this instinct, she felt her body start to buzz in anticipation. Her mouth began to salivate. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Fleur shrugged a shoulder in response.</p><p>“That is what your veela, you, were doing to me last night? Is that why mine is starting to heal? ”</p><p>“Oui.” Fleur was keeping her face and body neutral, trying not to give anything away, but she had been dying to have the brunette tend to her mark. She assumed it would happen when she was being intimate with Fleur last night, but it did not happen. Not only was the small wound irritating her, but she wanted to feel Hermione’s tongue on her. For the witch to lick her mark; kiss her stake of claim. And it would be a good excuse to feel Hermione on her without having sex.</p><p>“Ok, how should I…”</p><p>“Just come here. Don’t be shy. It is a natural impulse of newly marked mates.”</p><p>She watched Hermione put her book down, then hesitate before crawling forward to Fleur. They were face to face, mere inches apart, and when Fleur breathed in she could smell the witch’s scent. It was intoxicating to her. Something uniquely Hermione, with hints of fresh mown grass and parchment. Her eyes were fixed on the brunette as she bit her lower lip in uncertainty, and then Hermione leaned down and took a tentative lick on her mark.</p><p>Fleur let out a small gasp. Hermione paused, before more firmly dragging her warm tongue across the veela’s skin. Fleur moaned, grabbed the back of Hermione’s head and pulled her in close. Hermione slid one hand into Fleur’s hair, the other on her hip, and began to make work upon the French woman’s neck. <em>Mon Dieu.</em> The blonde began to whimper and keen, falling to her back and bringing Hermione with her. The Gryffindor was on top of Fleur, between her legs, and held a firm grasp on the veela while stroked her neck with tongue. Their breaths were ragged, bodies hot. Hermione switched from long, languid strokes, to short teasing ones, and back again. Again. Again. Fleur couldn’t get enough. It felt so good she didn’t even bother to stifle the noises emanating from her lips. She didn’t even realize she was rolling her hips against Hermione until she felt a growing bulge against her center. <em>Déesse</em>. She bucked her hips against the witch on top of her as she felt Hermione push back. They both moaned. Hermione began to gently nip and suck around the mark. After one particularly hard bite, Fleur growled and sat up.</p><p>She pushed Hermione so that their previous position was flipped- Fleur on top with the Gryffindor beneath her, and descended upon her neck. She was rough with pent up desire for the brunette. Desire she had been pushing down, refusing to admit to, for years. She rocked her hips as she straddled the witch, licked her mark and bit up and down her neck. Hermione had no qualms with letting the veela take her this way. Her hands were roaming up and down Fleur’s back and she was moaning louder and louder. Fleur let a hand wander down and pinch the brunette’s nipple through her shirt. Hermione gasped, and Fleur needed more. More of those sounds. More of the brunette writhing beneath her. Perhaps less clothes.</p><p>“Don’t forget to use a contraception charm!” A peacock patronus bellowed in Apolline’s voice as it circled around the girls. A giggle could be heard as the patronus disappeared.</p><p>The women froze, both scared to move. Fleur pulled away and met Hermione’s gaze. They both looked horrified, searching each other's faces. Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. It was Fleur first, she just burst out laughing. Hermione joined in and the two couldn’t stop. Tears were streaming down their faces by the time they had managed to get their laughter under control.</p><p>“Your mother has impeccable timing,” chuckled Hermione. Fleur giggled at that. She took a moment to catch her breath. She was still on top of the younger witch. Her giggles died down and she studied Hermione’s face. She took in her honey brown eyes, constellation of light freckles, her cute nose. Her eyes dropped to the witch's lips. Watched as the smile faded. Their breaths became long and deep. Pieces of a poem by Victor Hugo came to Fleur’s mind. <em>‘I should have seen...the kiss on her lips...her honest mouth was there.’</em> The consequences of kissing Hermione would be severe. But it would be so easy to lean in. Perhaps she could just brush their lips together. Or perhaps just give in. Her eyes closed and she felt a force of gravity between them begin to pull her towards her mate.</p><p>“Fleur.” Hermione whispered her name so softly the veela thought she had imagined it. “Fleur, I want to but I’m not sure of the repercussions….” Fleur’s eyes snapped open and she sat upright before leaping off of Hermione.</p><p>“Je suis désolé, Hermione! I am so sorry. That would have been bad. I do not know what came over me. It was just instinct! It is the bond between us, it is meant to encourage us to move things along. The consequences! I am so sorry!” Fleur was speaking rapidly, hands hovering in front of her mouth in horror of its almost-betrayal. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want this! The plan was to break free from the bonding process, not complete it. Not string the brunette along. She began to pace.</p><p>“Calm down, it’s ok! It’s ok! Nothing happened. We stopped. It’s-”</p><p>“Non, it is not ok. I let things get out of hand. It shouldn’t have even come close to that. If we had kissed it would have completed another step in the bonding process. I am so sorry”</p><p>Hermione was sitting and watching the veela get worked up. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to do something, anything, to reassure Fleur and prevent her from freezing Hermione out again. They had made progress, and now Hermione was scared this would be a setback for them. They had made good strides forward, she didn’t want to lose that. When Hermione stood up Fleur backed further away.</p><p>“I need space. I need time. I need air. I need time to think! But it is impossible when you are around me! When you’re near me I can’t think straight.”</p><p>“Fleur, please-” Hermione stepped closer.</p><p>“Stay away from me, Hermione! Don’t come any closer, I beg you.” Fleur crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders were tense. She did not trust herself not to take the brunette if she came within arms reach. “Please, I’m not angry. I just can’t think when you get so near. I can’t process. I keep having flashbacks. I see us. I <em>feel</em> us. And I can’t think straight like this.”</p><p>Hermione froze in place. She felt like Fleur was a small bird she was trying to catch without scaring it away. Fleur was experiencing the same things she was. What did all of this mean?</p><p>“I just need some air, ok?” And with that Fleur fled the library, leaving a stunned Hermione behind.</p><p>Fleur made her way down the hall, to foyer, then out the front door. She didn’t get far when she was suddenly hit with debilitating anguish. It was painful. She felt like someone punched her in the stomach. She was winded, nauseous, her chest tightened, her head was pounding. She fell to her knees. <em>What an imbecile I am.</em></p><p>“Teeny!” Fleur called out in pain. The house elf appeared beside her. “Please. Take me to...the bibliothèque,” she managed out. Teeny grabbed her by the arm and with a pop she was apparated to the center of the library. She saw Hermione in a ball on the floor. “That will be all, Teeny.” And the elf was gone. She stumbled over to her mate before dropping to the ground beside her. She draped her body on top of Hermione’s and began to profusely apologize to her.</p><p>“I should never have done that, forgive me. Please. I have made a mess of so many things today and I have hurt you in more ways than one. Je suis désolé, cherie. Pardonnez-moi, s'il te plaît. Pardonnez-moi. I was not upset with you, but with myself I’m so sorry I hurt you.”</p><p>They stayed like that for some time. Fleur whispering apologies and promises to do better. Hermione reassuring her that she was ok, that they were fine. She was just glad she came back. Hands caressed backs, ran through hair. They found themselves sitting, facing each other, foreheads pressed together.</p><p>“This is hard and complicated. I am glad we are in this together now,” Hermione said. Fleur hummed in agreement. “We do need to figure this out though.”</p><p>“I know Hermione, I know. And we will, with more research I’m sure-”</p><p>“No, I mean this. You had every right to try to get some space. It’s hard for me too, to think objectively when you are so close. Sometimes even when you’re not. We need to figure something out where we can have space to process things and not cause each other pain.” Fleur nodded and began to think of possible solutions.</p><p>“I have an idea. Let’s see how far apart physically we can be before we start to feel the symptoms of our separation,” Fleur suggested. “Once we determine our threshold, we know we can separate that much. We can be in different rooms, or one of us can cast a charm to help us block out the presence of the other.”</p><p>“That’s brilliant!” exclaimed Hermione. “How should we do this?”</p><p>“Let’s go to the garden. It is peaceful out there. It would be the perfect place to meditate and think clearly about everything.” Fleur was already getting up and smiling.</p><p>“To the garden!” And they were off, taking hold of each other’s hand without thinking twice.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;<br/>
The poem referenced in this chapter is “La Coccinelle,” by Victor Hugo. It is originally in French.</p><p>“The Ladybug”</p><p>She told me: Something is<br/>
bothering me. And I noticed<br/>
her white neck and, on it,<br/>
a little pink bug.</p><p>I should have—but, wise or mad,<br/>
at sixteen one is timid,<br/>
seen the kiss on her mouth<br/>
more than the insect on her neck.</p><p>One would have thought it a shell:<br/>
a pink back with black marks.<br/>
Warblers leaned out from the branches<br/>
to better see us.</p><p>Her honest mouth was there:<br/>
I bent toward the beauty,<br/>
and I took the ladybug;<br/>
but the kiss flew away.</p><p>Son, learn what they call me,<br/>
said the insect from the blue sky.<br/>
Insects belong to Good God<br/>
but stupidity belongs to humans.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Your Heart's Knowledge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fleur and Hermione work together to create space between them. They let their minds finally wander and process the goings-on between them.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started after Fred died. She was not close to her brother-in-law, but she always appreciated his mischief, particularly when it was not aimed at her. Fred and George provided her some good distraction from the tension in the Burrow, and some passive justice, when they pulled their pranks on members of the Weasley household. Most of the time she managed to hide a smile, stifle a giggle, but every now and then she couldn’t help but to let out a very undignified guffaw. They made people laugh in the middle of war. In that sense, they were heaven-sent.</p><p>Bill was devastated, of course. He was the eldest son, the first born. He was supposed to be a protector. And although she told him numerous times that it was not his fault, he would not hear it, at least not at first. But then he began to respond by telling her that he knew it wasn’t his fault, it was Fleur’s. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with looking for her, trying to follow her throughout the battle, he could have been defending his family members, and he would have been there at the right time for Fred, he just knew it. It was Fleur’s fault. </p><p>As time went on things got worse. He was drinking more and more, and became very belligerent when inebriated. He had all sorts of outbursts. Some in resentment that he had to take care of his broken-hearted parents and siblings while none of them took care of him. Some in anger at not being able to save Fred. Some in rage that Fleur had not gotten her clan involved  (she tried, but alas, they were not mates!). Some in self-loathing where he felt hideous and insufficient. He became paranoid that Fleur found him repulsive, that she either would or already had cheated on him and would leave him. He made terrible remarks about veela promiscuity, and often called her a slag among other degrading things when drunk. She remembered with pain that last fight that had hit too close for Fleur. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I know, ya’know?” He slurred at her. “I know you don’t find me...suitable” hiccup “to be your life partner-er-er, or, whatever.” He took another swig of Beetle Berry Whiskey straight from the bottle. “You won’t even have my children!” he spat. Fleur sat with her legs crossed, back straight, shoulders level, and face cool and unreadable. Poised. Unwillingly to react or say anything, as it was certain that anything she could do or say would only set him off further. She learned that quickly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I never even ever met your family, mum yer yer yer...sister!” Fleur winced. “Don’t argue it! I’ve heard things. About. About. Veela.” He stumbled forward from where he was standing at the fireplace and onto the sofa Fleur currently occupied.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You would have introduced me. Family is everything to your kind.” He took another drink. “But there is somethin,’ huh? Somethin’ bout me?” He sat up as straight as he could and leaned toward her. “That my family is poor? I’m a werewolf! Thas it, innit? Or perhaps that my face is so grotesque now, so bloody ugly,” he looked as if he was trying to force down a wave of nausea. “That my face is so shite that I can’t live up to their beauty standards? WIll my face offend them? Does it offend you?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes it took everything in Fleur to hold her tongue, to stay when she so desperately wanted to leave when he was like that. She one time tried to soothe him with her thrall. She channeled warmth and safety scented with lavender. He had calmed, but afterwards accused her of manipulating him, which led to another fight. So she would wait it out. Wait until he was sobered enough to shift from antagonistic to morose and she would see the glimpses of the man she knew. And then Fleur would make love to Bill to prove that she still loved him and that he was enough. The next day he would be apologetic, sweet, and make promises. He would return to the good, and kind and honest man he truly was for the next however many days, until another night of drinking would inevitably occur.</p><p>The night that he had brought up her family, he was so wound up that he left by floo to his parents house after being unable to break through Fleur’s stoicism. She heard later that he drank so much he got sick on the floors, had tried to fight his father, and then attempted to apparate back to Shell Cottage. But in his drunken state Bill was mortally splinched. A third of his body remained at the Burrow, and the rest of him was later found miles and miles from their home. </p><p>Fleur was racked with grief and guilt. She felt culpable for his death. She cried for weeks, with their last fight playing over and over in her mind. Because even though the reasons he gave were not right, he was not wrong. He was not her mate, and her family and clan refused to meet him. Her veela refused him. Every time she was in heat she went home to France. And every time her mother would look at her with such disappointment. Fleur refused to admit she had been wrong to marry the redhead. She loved Bill. She did. War changed people, hurt people, and she would not abandon him after all they had been through. She had made her decision, made vows, and wanted to stand by them and be in control of her own life. </p><p>That is why she felt so terrible for what had happened between her and Hermione. None of the veela ways were explained to Hermione, none of the consequences of their actions, and in the heat of the moment her veela finally claimed what it had been desiring for so long. There was no informed consent. Without knowledge of what it all meant, the veela had essentially taken Hermione’s choice away. And in doing so, Fleur not only had violated the girl, but she had also dishonored Bill’s memory and everything they had by claiming someone that was the one thing he was not and could never be: a true potential mate. That made all the difference. Of course she could see herself happy and in love with the witch. She knew what being bonded to a mate meant. She had been raised to seek out a potential mate, mark and bond, and love them unconditionally. Grow with them, learn with them, protect them, make love to them, shower them with affection, trust them, and all of those things would be reciprocated. They would become powerful together; become their higher selves. They would transform. A transformative love. If her inner veela saw Hermione as a potential mate, it meant it was all there within Fleur’s grasp, but did she deserve all of that? Did she deserve to be happy?</p><p>If she hadn’t forced herself to be with Bill, would he still be alive? He left drunk that night because he was haunted by something he didn’t have the words for. Would Fred still be alive? If she had made the right choice all those years ago when the Beauxbatons carriage first arrived at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, how much pain, death and heartache could she have saved them all from? Saved herself from? </p><p>It had always been Hermione. When she first laid eyes on the frizzy-haired girl, Fleur was intrigued. She had a look of defiance and determination about her. She was fierce. Those things Fleur had gleaned from just casual observations. During her time at Hogwarts she felt drawn to the girl. From hearing about and then occasionally witnessing the brunette’s intellect, seeing her fierce loyalty to her friends, watching her skill with magic; Fleur was impressed to say the least. And a little turned on. When Fleur could manage to sneak away from her classmates and drooling boys, she would go to the library. Wait and hope to catch a glimpse of the Gryffindor. To be near her. She suspected Hermione was a potential mate, but she was only a fourth year student. A child! And a female. Although veela did not care about such things, the wizarding world did, and she had no idea if Hermione was attracted to women. She didn’t want that drama or strife invading her world at the time. There was enough attention and discrimination focused on her that year as it was. And Fleur had the tournament to focus on in addition to her studies. There would be time later, or perhaps she would come across another potential mate that was at least of legal age. But when she saw Hermione on the Bulgarian’s arm at the Yule Ball, and then saw her as his prize during the second task, she was overcome with jealousy and regret. Her inner-veela tried to push its way to the surface multiple times, urged her to fight for the girl, and a few times tried to get her to antagonize Viktor into a duel. Instead she maintained her distance, kept her aloof demeanor in its place for the rest of the school year and during the times at the Burrow when she would encounter the witch again. </p><p>Her veela had been angry with her for a long time after her year abroad at Hogwarts. It did not approve of Fleur’s choice to pursue Bill. But it was her choice this time. In her mind, her inner veela already failed and made a fool of her once. When it identified and reached out to Hermione, the girl was a girl, was too young, and didn’t seem interested in Fleur in the slightest. In fact, she seemed to almost detest Fleur for reasons the blonde did not quite understand. She turned her attention to Bill Weasley. Bill was smart, handsome, funny, and most importantly, did not drool over her or objectify her. He would be a fit partner, even if he wasn’t a potential mate. Yes, her inner veela would be furious with her for years to come. </p><p>It was when Hermione had landed broken on the beach that Fleur no longer had the option of staying away. She couldn’t bring herself to even if she wanted. Her protective nature kicked in and she scooped the girl up, carried her into the cottage, up the stairs, and into her room. She wouldn't let anyone touch the brunette or get near her. She made Bill sleep in the boys’ room. This room, her room, was to be Hermione’s safe haven. She went to work and threw herself into keeping the young witch alive. She wrote to her mother to let her know it was Hermione. Apolline knew of the Gryffindor from when Fleur talked about her the summer after the tournament. She had her clan’s support behind her, and they sent rare and expensive potion ingredients and books to aid her. She was relentless in her mission. She let no one else tend to Hermione for at least the first month of her healing, and even then it was only to give Fleur a small reprieve or when she had to go to France. Hermione was too precious to risk letting anyone else be responsible for her health. She snarled, eyes black, and flashed her sharpening canines at Ron when he demanded to come in after being kept out of the room the first week. He didn’t try again after that. </p><p>It was during this time that she found that her own wellbeing depended on the state of the brunette. Hermione’s pain was pain to Fleur. Hermione’s sleepless nights were Fleur’s insomnia. Hermione’s tears and sobs so evoked distress and desperation in Fleur that it took everything in her not to break down as well. She would be no use to the girl if she let that happen. She neglected herself until Hermione showed signs of recovery. The intrigue she felt for the girl those few years ago turned into a deep caring and attachment. Fleur developed an admiration for Hermione’s strength in handling and facing her pain and treatment. The determination not to succumb to her injuries or madness pulled at Fleur’s heart. She felt a growing attraction and respect when Hermione felt well enough to join the rest of the house. The Gryffindor put aside her pain and trauma for the sake of the cause, for the sake of the boys’ comfort, only falling apart when she was alone with Fleur in their room. She was impressed by Hermione’s leadership within the Golden Trio; and her courage when, even though it broke the veela when she found out, the Golden Girl and the boys left to break into one of the most impenetrable places in the world. She laughed and cried in relief when she heard they escaped on the back of a dragon. Of course her Hermione made it, and on the back of a dragon no less. She was in awe of the young woman at the Battle of Hogwarts, where she fought with bravery, ferocity, and skill. Fleur, when she could, kept an eye on the brunette during battle. Threw protegos to guard her back, sliced and destroyed any who approached her on her blind side. Hermione was glorious. She was a hero. And Fleur was a coward. </p><p>When the battle was over she could feel herself almost splitting in two. As she walked toward Bill her veela tried to claw its way out of her body to go to Hermione. She almost relented, but when she saw how broken her husband was at his family’s loss, she chose to do what she believed to be the honorable thing and stand by her marriage. But was it honorable? What good had come of it? If she had not married Bill, if she had instead pursued and taken a true potential mate- pursued Hermione like she knew she was meant to- and started the bonding process, the clan would have joined the battle. Bill wouldn’t have been so focused on her during the fight. Would Fred would Tonks would Lupin would so many students, children, have then lived? An army of veela, warriors with ancient power, fire-wielding capabilities, and strong wings for flight...The final battle might have ended so much sooner. How responsible was Fleur for those deaths? </p><p>She had disgraced her heritage. Dishonored her late husband and his family. Failed to bring more aid to the war. Taken the choice away from her mate. She wanted to bury it all in her past and never revisit it. She did not deserve happiness, and Hermione deserved better. But now, after forcing her veela against its nature and into unhappiness, her veela was forcing her toward a loving and fulfilling future. Would she turn away from Hermione as she had done before? That would be a slap in the face to her inner veela and her people. Again. But even if she could try to find a way forward, to pursue this, how could she rectify what she had stolen from Hermione? It would be cruel and unfair to her. Fleur felt lost. What she wanted, what she felt she deserved, doing right by Hermione, doing right by her people, it all seemed in conflict. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione was sitting in the shade of a weeping willow tree while reading <em> The Secret Language of Flowers</em>. There was a faint buzzing sound in her ears from Fleur’s muffliato charm. Her eyes occasionally wandered over to the veela. She was about half a quidditch pitch’s length away. It took a while to determine their threshold. Discomfort set in quickly, but they pressed through it to see at what point it would almost become too intrusive to concentrate on anything else. They actually stretched the boundary a bit. They went a certain distance, and returned to each other, held hands, hugged, or very briefly tended to the other’s mark. Then they would separate again and go a few paces farther. It was a slow process, and this seemed to be the limit. Now Fleur was sitting at the edge of a pond meditating, with the backs of her hands resting on her knees, palms facing upward, eyes closed, and wind lightly blowing through her hair. She was so utterly beautiful. </p><p>They had almost kissed. The logical part of Hermione’s mind was grateful that she had the wherewithal to stop it before it happened. She couldn’t let another part of the process be completed when she still didn’t know what it would mean for them to do so. When she hadn’t spoken to Fleur about Option 2. But another part of her regretted not letting the veela kiss her. She wanted to kiss her. And by the way Fleur was grinding against her erection, Hermione could only deduce that they probably could have gone further, they both wanted it. The idea alone of becoming more intimate with the untransformed Fleur was marvelous and sent a rush of butterflies and lust through the Gryffindor. <em> More Fleur</em>. But they didn’t go further, and now it almost felt as if a part of her was mourning the missed opportunity. Why did it make her feel this way? </p><p>Perhaps it was the biological or magical compulsion of the bond. Fleur had explained that each step of the process and the bond between them would drive them closer to the completion of the ritual. But was it all a compulsion? Fleur was undeniably gorgeous, and when she wasn’t freezing Hermione out or flying off at the handle, she was pleasant to be around. She was obviously intelligent and skilled too. She couldn’t wait to ask the veela more about her research. Intellect was a turn on for Hermione. And, admittedly, even Fleur’s haughtiness was sexy, alluring. Everything about the French woman culminated into a being that was so beautiful, regal and enigmatic that she almost seemed untouchable, unreachable, unattainable. Yet she had almost kissed Hermione. And Hermione had been intimate with at least one half of the woman. A growing part of her wanted all of Fleur. Or, at least to get to know Fleur as a whole person, right? <em> Separate true feelings from the compulsion of this bond</em>. </p><p>If she was honest with herself she had to admit that before the bond had been accidentally initiated, she had been strongly attracted to the woman. In her fourth year at Hogwarts she was so physically attracted to Fleur that it made her angry. It distracted her from her most important priorities: keeping Harry alive through the tournament and her school work. She resented Fleur for unknowingly setting up occupancy in the brunette’s mind. After she was tortured, she got to know another side of the blonde. A side she never could have imagined existed. A side probably no one else knew about except her family, and probably Bill. Everything about Fleur had been unselfish, kind, and so generous. Hermione couldn’t help but develop something she could only assume at the time was a crush. She had felt so guilty about it, knowing that Fleur was married and in love with Bill. It made her feel like a terrible person, but she felt she couldn’t fight it. When it was time for Gringotts, Hermione welcomed the opportunity to get away from the blonde and her growing feelings for her. Retrospectively, Hermione wondered if what she felt was what muggle psychologists referred to as transference, or erotic transference. Though Hermione certainly wasn’t projecting her feelings about anyone else onto the woman, and at the time she wasn’t just yearning for something sexual with Fleur. She just wanted to be closer, wanted more of her. Hermione wasn’t sure. That was then, and this is now. And if it was a crush, it was a crush. Who could be blamed for feeling for such a magnificent woman? </p><p>“Have you and my daughter had another squabble? Things sounded like they were going so well. What did she do?” Apolline appeared next to Hermione and gracefully lowered herself to the ground to sit beside the young witch. </p><p>“Oh, hello Madame Delacour.” Hermione was blushing furiously at not only being caught staring at Fleur, but at Apolline bringing up that moment in the library. She was hoping the woman would graciously leave it be. She should have known better</p><p>“Apolline, call me Apolline. We are practically family,” the veela said cheerfully. </p><p>“Apolline, hi. And no, we aren’t having a disagreement. We are just giving each other some space to be able to think clearly without the presence of the other clouding our judgement.” </p><p>“Ah, I see. A wise and clever thing to do,” Apolline nodded sagely. “Oh by the way, I contacted your department head, so you don’t have to reach out to them anymore. I thought the truth was the best way to go.” </p><p>“What? You told them? About this? Oh my goodness.” Hermione's heart started pounding. </p><p>“I told them that you are in France aiding the leading French veela clan in some important matters. No need for more details than that, unless you want me to disclose more.” Apolline grinned at Hermione’s small panic. They sat together taking in their surroundings for a while before Hermione turned to the woman.</p><p>“Apolline, I have been struggling with a few things.” Perhaps Fleur’s mother could answer some of her many questions. </p><p>“What is it, my dear?” Apolline had no idea that she would open the floodgates to Hermione’s concerns. The Gryffindor sat up straight, excited at the prospect of getting some straightforward information. </p><p>“Why did this process start out of order? Why did Fleur’s veela choose me? How and why did my teeth sharpen that night to mark Fleur? How did I know what to do? Why did I feel the instinct to lick fleur’s neck when I saw the mark? What happens if Fleur doesn’t choose me? What if neither of us want to be forced into this? What if we just don’t go along with it? What happens after the ritual? What does the ritual entail? How do I sort out my true feelings from the biological or magical compulsion of the bond? Oh how I wish I had a quill and parchment…” </p><p>Apolline let out a melodious laugh. “My dear belle-fille, you certainly are wonderful!” Hermione didn’t know what was so amusing.. </p><p>“I cannot answer all of your questions, but I can take on some.” Hermione pouted at this. “Your teeth and those instincts you have been experiencing are due to the bonding process. It is a magical process, of course! It has imbued you with those instincts as you are not a veela and would not know to do those things otherwise. When the process starts with a potential mate these things are set into motion. Ancient veela magic. That’s really all I can say about that. And I now have a question for you.”</p><p>“Yes?” Hermione readied herself.</p><p>“Why is it that you believe that all of your feelings and ‘compulsions,’ as you call them, are due to two separate sources? Your own natural feelings and an outside bond separate from yourself?” </p><p>“Oh, well, I mean, aren’t they? Fleur said the process kind of, influences us to move it forward. To complete itself. Fleur never would have slept with me, let alone chosen me for a life partner, if it were not for her heat, and now the bond. We hardly know each other, and she was in love with Bill.”</p><p>“Oh, Hermione. Sometimes you intellectualize certain things too much. It is very cute, but not useful in this situation. Have you ever asked yourself what the bond is exactly?” When Hermione didn’t respond, Apolline continued. “It is your magic, my dear. Yours and Fleur’s. Your essence. When a veela and her potential mate meet, their magic reaches out for the magic of the other. They recognize a match, a potential equal and love. This is not something that can just happen with anyone or at any time. There are only a handful of potential mates in the world for a veela. Sometimes some veela only get one. Sometimes they never find a potential mate. When the bonding process is initiated, it allows for their magic to begin to join. Your bond is your magic and Fleur’s intertwining, dancing, pulling you two together, fusing.” </p><p>“Fusing?” <em>Fusing?!</em></p><p>“Fusing. It can’t be that surprising. It is one definition for ‘bonding,’ is it not? Joining together through heat; chemically altering and joining. Well, in this case, magically.” Apolline watched as the young witch’s face began to scrunch as she tried to comprehend the veela’s words.</p><p>“So what I’ve been feeling…?” </p><p>“What you have been feeling is natural, Hermione. It is real. Just as the bonding is natural, not some extraneous and controlling outside force. The feelings are yours. As for all of your other questions, it would be no fun if I answered them for you! <em> Talk to Fleur</em>. Ah, here she comes now. Greetings, daughter.” </p><p>Fleur approached the two women sitting under the long branches of the great willow. Hermione’s face looked pale, her eyes were unfocused and her mouth was slightly agape. She eyed her mother suspiciously as the woman rose to kiss Fleur on both cheeks. </p><p>“Mother, what did you do to Hermione?” The younger veela quirked an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips.</p><p>“My dear daughter, how could you think I would do anything to your mate? I’m wounded. I found her like this. Perhaps you two shouldn’t distance yourselves like that for too long. Anyway, it’s time for dinner. Come! It’s scampi steaks and scallops! And I had Teeny prepare some honey roasted figs for dessert! I myself have a meeting with a ministry official from Britain to attend this evening, so please play nice and find a way to manage through dinner together. Bonsoir!” And with that, the older veela disapparated from the grounds. </p><p>Fleur looked down to Hermione, who had not moved an inch since she first walked over. “Earth to Hermione. Dinner is served.” She reached down to offer her hand and help the brunette to her feet. When they walked into the dining room it was softly lit with candles and had a bouquet of roses at the center of the table. Fleur huffed and took out her wand, returning the room to its normal lighting.</p><p>“Please excuse my mother, she is a bit dramatic and over the top. Thank goodness I take more after my father, non?” When Hermione didn’t immediately answer Fleur shot her a look with narrowed eyes. </p><p>“Er, right. Yes. Nothing like your mother.”</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>After Hermione showered she sat down on a fainting couch in the guest room. She waited for her veela who she knew would be coming for their nightly visit shortly. She hadn't been waiting more than a few minutes when the feathered beauty strode into the room. </p><p>"Good evening, ma moitié, ma cœur," the veela said airily as she seated herself next to the Gryffindor. "Whatever shall we get up to tonight?" Fleur began to caress Hermione's face and lick her mark. </p><p>"Well, that's partially up to you, Fleur," Hermione replied while maintaining as much composure as she could muster. </p><p>"Partially?" The veela pulled away and eyed the witch in amusement. </p><p>"Yes, partially, because I think we both know what <em> you </em> want to do tonight,"</p><p>"What <em>we</em> want to do. Remember, I can feel you." Fleur reached down and began to stroke Hermione’s semi-hard cock through her pajama bottoms. Hermione shied away, pulling the veela's hands off of her member and from her face, but held on to them. </p><p>"Well, my body does want you, of course. But I wanted to maybe...take a break from sexual intimacy for a little while." Fleur opened her mouth to object but Hermione pressed the tips of her fingers against the blonde's mouth to softly silence her. "Just hear me out, ok?" The veela pouted. "I spoke to your mother today, and, well, she gave me a lot to think about. I'm overwhelmed." </p><p>"What did she say to you? I will teach my mother a lesson she will never forget!" There was a fire in the veela’s black eyes. </p><p>"No, no! Fleur, you don't have to do anything of the sort! It wasn't anything like that, I promise! She was very kind, very respectful." Hermione cursed herself for not putting that better. </p><p>"Are you sure? Are you telling me the truth or trying to placate me? I must defend your honor. If anyone-"</p><p>"Fleur I'm telling you the truth! I swear! Don't get your feathers all ruffled." Hermione began to run her hands over plumes on the veela's shoulders, smoothing them down. "I just mean that I am still learning about all of this. And I'm still processing some of the things she said today." The Gryffindor started to bite her lower lip.</p><p>"What else?" Fleur asked knowingly.</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"There is something else on your mind. Tell me. We are open and honest now, oui?" Hermione smiled at Veela-Fleur using Human-Fleur's words from earlier in the day. </p><p>"I suppose we are. You were there today when Human-Fleur and I spoke about starting things over, right?"</p><p>"Oui." The blonde nodded to Hermione for her to continue.</p><p>"If we are starting over as friends, then, well, sex is not a friendly thing to do." Hermione tried to keep her tone light.</p><p>"But we are not friends, we are mates! It is insulting to suggest that we are anything less!" The veela’s voice was rising. Hermione took her hands in her own again in an attempt to ground her. </p><p>"Be that as it may, it is what Human-Fleur and I agreed to. And, well, even if we are not exactly friends...I know you consent, but if I’m going to be physically intimate with Fleur it must be with the whole Fleur. Both parts of you must give me consent. I know she hasn't said 'no,' but she also hasn't said 'yes.'"</p><p>"She wants this too, you know,” the blonde said stubbornly.</p><p>"Wanting something and being willing and prepared to have it are separate things."  They remained silent for a few minutes. Fleur was looking out the window, contemplating the witch’s words. </p><p>"You are an honorable woman, Hermione. A true Gryffindor. So what shall we do tonight?" Hermione sighed in relief, glad that Fleur was not going to push more. That she seemed to understand. </p><p>"That's up to you. Is there something you have been wanting to do but haven't had a chance to in a while?" Fleur’s answer was immediate:</p><p>"Flying. I have not flown in a while. I suppose the exercise would help to burn off some sexual energy." Hermione couldn't help but blush. </p><p>"That sounds wonderful. I would love to watch you. But Fleur, are there any clothes you could put on while you are transformed like this?”</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p><br/>
Hermione sat at the edge of the pond. The night was perfect. The stars were clear, the moon was bright. She watched Fleur glide overhead, wings extended. <em> Magnificent. </em> She watched as she descended and flew just above the water, letting her hand reach down to dip and drag along the surface, before rising again with powerful flapping wings. Fleur would return to Hermione every so often, lick her mark, let Hermione lick hers, before taking off again. Hermione noticed that the majestic creature would fly only so far. Could only fly so far. Their bond keeping her tethered and unable to truly let go. <em> A caged bird</em>, Hermione thought despondently. Watching Fleur fly was one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking sights she had ever seen.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Greetings! I know I started off this story by updating frequently, but it is going to start taking a bit more time for me to do that moving forward. My summer courses have started, and depending on how demanding they are, I am hoping to update at least twice a week. Could be more or less, we'll find out together! Thanks again for the kudos and comments :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. I Would Be Your Protector</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A different kind of intimacy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Just lay on your stomach and I’ll take care of the rest,” Hermione instructed the veela. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur eyed Hermione before complying. “So you have changed your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Fleur! No. I want to take care of you in a different way. I know it’s been a while since you’ve last flown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Fleur got herself comfortable on the bed, the brunette joined by kneeling over the blonde, one leg on each side on her waist on the mattress. She unhooked the bra-like garment Fleur was wearing so that she had more unrestricted access and then set about her task. She wanted to give back to Fleur. To make things up to her. And Fleur, at least this side of Fleur, craved physical contact all the time. Physical intimacy. And although they had put sex on hold indefinitely, that didn’t mean there couldn’t be physical intimacy. She reached forward and began to massage the veela’s back. Fleur let out an appreciative groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beginning at the base of her neck, Hermione used the meaty part of her palms to press into the muscles on either side of the veela’s spine and plumage, and firmly, slowly drew them down Fleur’s back. Past shoulders, mid back, lumbar, to sacrum, careful not to pull any feathers. She then reversed, pushing up her back, up to the shoulders, and carefully continuing along the spine up Fleur’s neck to the base of her head. Fleur was purring. Hermione smiled. She repeated the movements several more times, relaxing the blonde and warming up her muscles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apolline’s words had echoed in Hermione’s mind while she was watching the veela fly that night. The gravity of her words weighed on Hermione. Her mind would start to race and she could feel her heart start to beat at a dangerous pace. When those moments struck her, she would focus more intently on Fleur. Focus on her grace, her hair, the rhythm of her wings, the look of serenity on her face. And that would ground Hermione, bring her peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione shifted the focus of her hands from Fleur’s spine to her shoulders. She was mindful to keep at least one hand in contact with the veela at all times, wanting to keep that connection unbroken. She pushed two hands across skin and feather to one side. Each palm would find a stretch of skin to press, circle, and then would move on to repeat. Where hands met feathers, she adjusted to more mild motions. She glided her hands to the other shoulder. Fleur’s noises were encouraging, and Hermione felt some confidence and pride swell within her that she could make Fleur feel good in this way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The contact, the feel of skin on skin, skin on feathers, felt good for Hermione too. She thought back to earlier in the day when Fleur caressed her face and embraced her, how she wished it had lasted longer. Thought about when they were on the floor, how she wanted to soothe the distraught and in-pain veela, be the one that could do that for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Using adroit fingers she began to knead the tight muscles. Adding pressure here and there before lifting and rubbing between fingers and palms, manipulating and stretching. Nobody could say Hermione Granger wasn’t good with her hands. She progressed toward Fleur’s shoulder blades, trying to get the muscles where wings were previously anchored, but she was having difficulty as she worked around feathers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of her felt terrible for Fleur. Half of the veela wanted to push things forward, but wasn’t getting what she wanted. The other half didn’t want this to begin with, but found herself unexpectedly in the bonding process. That part of her was the most vulnerable, most stripped of choice, autonomy. She knew that side of Fleur wanted a way out, but it didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon, if at all. She wanted to take care of Human-Fleur, but she had so many walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, this feels amazing. You are a truly gifted witch.” Fleur was so relaxed beneath the brunette’s hands. Perhaps if she tried now, Fleur’s guards would be lowered enough to receive care and tenderness from Hermione. She hoped so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fleur, I want to continue making you feel good, but I also want to give you as much benefit out of this massage as possible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? This feels very beneficial.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be able to do more, and cover more area, but…well, your feathers are in the way. I’m worried about tugging on them.” Fleur turned her head enough to look at Hermione. “If you were willing, and if Human-Fleur were willing, I could do a more thorough job. I could reach certain muscles, apply pressure and do things that I can’t now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me check in with my ‘Human-Fleur.’” Fleur smirked as she used Hermione’s title for her untransformed self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione felt nervous and excited at once. Would Fleur allow this? It would mean so much to her if Fleur decided to be vulnerable and wanted to receive physical intimacy from her. Not because of pain of separation, not because of Veela-Fleur, but because she wanted to. But what if she closed up in the middle of it and became angry? Human-Fleur could be so volatile. The feather Hermione was playing with between her fingers disappeared. She looked down to watch the rest follow suit until she was staring at only smooth, bare skin. The body beneath her ever so slightly tensed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” The Gryffindor greeted shyly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello.” Fleur’s voice sounded a little on edge. Hermione decided to proceed as if she didn’t notice. She was ecstatic, but did her best to come off unaffected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there any part of your back that feels more sore than the rest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem to know what you are doing,” Fleur replied coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smirked. That was as close to a compliment as she was going to get at the moment. She let her hands glide over newly exposed skin. Long smooth strokes, easing the French woman into her touch. She moved onto massaging up and the muscles along her spine as she had started with, this time going deeper. She maneuvered the edges of her palms along the scapula. knuckles pushed and twisted down. She kneaded muscles around trigger points before she drove thumbs into them. She would soothe the areas after with caresses before repeating the process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever this was between her and Fleur was something she did not yet have a definition for. She did not know the equation of the magical and chemical reactions transpiring. She did not know all of the consequences, did not know all the details, did not know the full significance. But at the moment none of that mattered to her. That alone should have been enough to make Hermione worry, as it was so uncharacteristic of her to not know and still be fine. But there was something inside her, a feeling inside her chest, a fullness and warmth, that allayed her anxieties and fears. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is right. This is where I am supposed to be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione spent the next hour using her hands, forearms and elbows to release tension, soothe aches, and evoke pleasure. Fleur’s moans, humming, and murmuring of ‘thanks you’s,’ ‘right there’s,’ and ‘just like that’s’ were fulfilling and made her heart swell. When she finished she got up and retrieved pajamas for the veela. She politely turned away as Fleur dressed. When they crawled into bed there was no tension, no guards, no wall. They lay facing each other, eyes watching, breaths even.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur so appreciated the witch in front of her. Nothing she was doing went unnoticed. She was making a point to give Fleur a sense of power and choice. She put off sex until Fleur was not only willing, but until Fleur expressly stated and showed that she wanted it. Hermione wanted all of her. That’s what she said. Fleur was so used to giving sexually, sometimes more for others than for herself, that she wasn’t sure Hermione meant it. Or would follow through. But the Gryffindor had a half naked veela in front of her for most of the night, fully naked at the start of it, and remained a perfect gentlewoman. And the way she touched Fleur was with such care and almost reverence. She was sure she didn’t deserve it, but she was so thankful for it tonight. For Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Hermione. For everything this evening. You are very kind. Very sweet. Very considerate.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I feel safe with you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur reached out a hand and grazed the back of her fingers across the younger woman’s cheek. Used her fingertips to trace the shell of Hermione’s ears. Maybe they couldn’t complete that missed first step of the bonding, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but maybe I could instead…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur gently cupped Hermione’s chin, looked down to her soft lips and leaned in. She kissed the brunette’s cheek, lingering before pulling back, and then kissing again, closer to Hermione’s mouth. Her skin was so soft. Fleur didn’t want to stop. She could feel Hermione start to tense, her breath speeding up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just one more</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she convinced herself. Her eyes found Hermione’s before she flicked them back down to her lips. She leaned in one last time and pressed her own to the corner of Hermione’s mouth, holding it, relishing in the nearness of being so close to what she had been yearning for since she was 17. She shifted to lick Hermione's mark when the temptation to kiss the witch properly was beginning to grow too strong, used it as an outlet to release some of the passion she was holding back. When she pulled away she found a flushed and breathless witch in front of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am little spoon,” Fleur informed the witch, before grabbing her hand, turning around, and wrapping Hermione’s arm around herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Molly,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am in France spending time with my family. I am not sure how long I will be staying. Hermione is with me and will be here for some time. I cannot thank you enough for visiting and checking in on me at Shell Cottage this past year. Your kindness and warmth was greatly appreciated. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fleur</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They discussed what their daily schedule would like over breakfast the following morning. Hermione created a workspace in a study down the hall from the library. Fleur would spend most of the day in the library researching. They would meet at twelve noon for lunch, take a walk through the garden, and return at one. They would work until supper, at about five thirty. Fleur made Hermione promise not to work a minute later. Hermione began to protest but the look Fleur gave her, with her pleading blue eyes and pouting lips, quickly followed by narrowed eyes and something close to a snarl, had Hermione agreeing to the hard stop time. The evening was theirs to do as they wished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mid morning Monday Hermione stepped out of the study to stretch her legs. She found herself walking in the direction of the library. Might as well see how Fleur was doing. When she arrived and opened the door, she was almost immediately intercepted by Apolline. Over the French woman’s shoulder she saw several veela women in deep conversation sitting in a circle with Fleur. Fleur looked vexed. Apolline firmly dismissed Hermione with a smile, promising she could get some alone time with Fleur at lunch. Hermione tried to explain that that was most certainly not what she was after but the door was closed in her face before she could get the words out. She contemplated barging in; clearly Fleur was not happy, but she knew Apolline would have warded the door. She returned to the study with several owls waiting for her with packages of paperwork. Not a fulfilling consolation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At lunch Fleur led Hermione to a greenhouse she fondly referred to as the ‘Orchid Daze.’ Fleur was delighted to teach Hermione about the flowers she was so passionate about. In the greenhouse there were hundreds of species and genera, the colors and shapes varying beautifully. Botany did not appear to be a subject Hermione was too familiar with, and Fleur delighted in being able to teach a few things to The Brightest Witch of Her Age. And the way the Gryffindor’s eyes would focus so intently on her when learning something was an added bonus. When she felt herself begin to squirm under the study of the brunette she proposed they spend the last of their break tending to each others necks. Simply for healing purposes, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During dinner they received two owls. One for Fleur from Molly Weasley. The Weasley matriarch sent her love and understanding, wished Fleur a peaceful and loving visit with her family, and invited her to dinner on Friday. The second owl came but two minutes after the first, carrying a howler addressed to Hermione. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER HOW DARE YOU!? I SENT YOU TO CHECK ON FLEUR AND THE TWO OF YOU DISAPPEAR FOR DAYS WITH NO WORD OR EXPLANATION BESIDES CANCELING DINNER PLANS WITH GINNY AND HARRY. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED WE’VE BEEN? HARRY WENT TO YOUR APARTMENT, GINNY CHECKED ALL THE WIZARDING BOOKSTORES IN ENGLAND, INCLUDING SOME MUGGLE. YOU BETTER BRING YOUR ARSE AND FLEUR’S TO THE BURROR ON FRIDAY IN TIME FOR DINNER AND PREPARED WITH AN EXPLANATION FOR YOU INEXCUSABLE BEHAVIOR! Oh, and do ask Fleur if she could bring a bottle or two of wine from her family’s vineyard. I heard it is exquisite. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
“Perhaps we should have owled sooner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apolline laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That evening they decided to play wizard’s chess. Fleur was winning, but it felt empty she was sure Hermione wasn’t putting up much of a fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Hermione? You are distracted.” Fleur watched as Hermione gathered her words before turning to the blonde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who were those women you were meeting with this morning? You looked angry. I...I wasn’t sure if I should intervene. I wanted to, but your mother…” Hermione trailed off. Fleur tried to contain a smile at the witch’s protectiveness of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do not have to worry about them, Hermione. Those were some of the veela clan elders. I will be meeting regularly with them regarding our situation. Their knowledge, wisdom, experience and interpretations of some of the texts will be useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They would help us stop the bonding process?” The brunette asked with scepticism. Hermione scratched her arms. They had been itching her all afternoon. She suspected she may be allergic to something in the Orchid Daze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m working on it,” Fleur replied. The elders most certainly did not want to help the two women attempt to stop the bonding process. They were there primarily to determine the impact of the second step of the bonding process being completed before the first, and to convince Fleur to accept it. A few suspected that there would be no great effect. It was just the inner veela accepting the bond first and initiating it because the more human part of her did not. A couple others were more cautious, and although they wanted Fleur to move the process forward and encouraged her to complete the first step, they wanted to do more research before attempting the ritual. Fleur had been frustrated because every time she brought up stopping the process she was shut down. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fleur, it is not possible and not our way. The way you are insisting upon it is sacrilege. We expect better from the next clan leader! From you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How can you not accept your mate? You know you two are perfect for each other, that even before this was initiated that your magic was calling out for each other. Even if this process could be stopped, which it cannot, the possibility of you finding another potential mate out there is infinitesimal.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You cannot stop this. Accept it. Move onward. You’re only torturing yourself and the poor girl by holding onto that ludicrous notion.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They put the game aside and began to talk about everything and nothing. Hermione told Fleur about Crookshanks and how much she missed him, and that she couldn’t bring herself to get another cat, kneazle, or cat-kneazle. Fleur was inwardly grateful for that fact, as she herself detested those kinds of animals. And the idea of pets in general. She stated that part, which got them into a discussion about the relations, dynamics and comparison of rights and protections among muggles, wizards, witches, animals and creatures. The two left the library late in the evening and walked up the stairs together to get ready for bed. Fleur turned to go to her room to shower but Hermione remained rooted to her spot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want her. I </span>
  </em>
  <span>need</span>
  <em>
    <span> her. I should go after her. Maybe we could bathe together. We’ve already seen each other, and it would be nice… </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hermione had no idea why those preposterous thoughts were running through her head, or why she found herself walking in the direction the veela was headed. Her feet seemed to be moving of their own volition. Fleur must have heard her footsteps, she glanced over her shoulder to see the brunette behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, what is it?” Hermione, face-to-face with the blonde, now really had no idea why she thought this was a good idea, what had gotten into her. How did she let her desire for Fleur go against her better judgement, especially after all the things she had said the night before?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I, uhm, I just wanted to ask you if...if I would be seeing you tonight! If you’ll be sleeping in my room,”  Hermione scratched her arm sheepishly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That was not at all convincing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oui, unless you do not want that.” Fleur said slowly, quirking an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I mean, yes. I do! I want to sleep with you. I mean! I want you to come. To my room. And sleep in the bed with me. Not ‘sleep with me.’ Not that I wouldn’t sleep with you. I mean we have, as you know, and it was good, amazing, fantastic! But I meant what I said last night, and I’m not pressuring you into anything. I hope you know that. Did I tell you that I appreciate you showing me the greenhouse today? It would be lovely for us to go back tomorrow, yes? Maybe we could-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione was cut off by Fleur pulling her into her arms in an embrace. She could hear and feel the blonde giggling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Oh, Hermione. You are très adorable. I’m going to bathe, I will see you soon.” And with that she pulled back, arms still connected to the brunette, and kissed her cheek. Then she was gone. Hermione went to her own bathroom and took a cold shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she returned to her room she found an untransformed Fleur standing by the windowsill and looking out at the grounds. She was surprised at this, but wasn’t sure what to say about it without coming off the wrong way. When Fleur turned around and smiled at her, Hermione felt herself unable to hold back one of her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fleur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione. I was wondering if perhaps we could...do it again, just you and me?” Fleur’s cheeks were pink. Hermione nearly choked on her own saliva. Was Fleur offering herself? “It’s just that, well, physical contact is good for us, and my body feels a bit stiff from sitting most of the day.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. A massage. Of Course</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Last night felt so good. And maybe I could also take care of you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The massage from Hermione was as it was the before. Sweet and torturous. It relaxed her and practically made Fleur’s body turn to jello, while at the same time setting her body on fire. Hot with want. She behaved herself and when it was getting to the point where she was questioning her self control, Fleur suggested they switch roles. She wasn't sure if she would fair much better once she sat atop Hermione’s hips and took in her naked back. Hermione's body was thin and supple, with some beauty marks sprinkled here and there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very kissable. </span>
  </em>
  <span>When Fleur started to press and move her hands along soft and smooth skin, she felt hardened muscles beneath her fingers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She kept her focus as best she could, reminding herself to work on knots and soothe taut muscle instead of just caressing and grabbing. She had her work cut out for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night Fleur was awoken by the woman next to her thrashing and crying out in her sleep. Fleur was momentarily frozen, triggered to those nights in Shell Cottage where Hermione was plagued by memories of torture and fear of failure and death. Fleur shook herself out of her stupor and began to call to the witch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hermione, Hermione," but the Gryffindor continued to cry and move about. Fleur laid a hand on her forehead, damp with sweat, and the other on the witch's hip. She gently hushed and made soothing noises, trying to coax the witch back to the waking world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t touch me!” Hermione shot up and screamed. She was hyperventilating, eyes moving about the room wildly, still not registering when and where she was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, it is ok, it is ok.” Fleur swiftly moved to hold the witch from behind, wrapping one around her waist and the other running through the witch’s hair. This is what had worked best at the cottage. She pressed her forehead to the back of Hermione’s shoulder. “You are with me, we are safe. We are in France at the manor. It is just you and me, ma petit lionne. I have got you, you are safe. We are in France.” Fleur continued  to murmur calming words into Hermione’s back. When the brunette started to become less tense, and her breathing began to even out, Fleur pulled her further into her front and leaned back onto the headboard. She continued to comb through her hair with her fingers and reassure the witch. “You are not alone. I’ve got you. I’ve got you and you’re safe now. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fleur,” whispered Hermione weakly. Fleur gently squeezed the witch against her. “Sometimes I just get so scared.” Her voice cracked. It broke Fleur’s heart. She’d heard these words before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is ok to be scared. It does not make you weak. You are still brave. You are not alone. You have me. I will keep you safe. I promise you these things.” Fleur’s throat felt tight and she fought to keep her voice steady. She really would keep her safe, protect her at all costs. She hoped the Gryffindor knew that. She felt her shift in her arms to look at Fleur. Tears were streaming down her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did the best I could, but…” she couldn’t finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did, you did everything you could. You did more than anyone should have ever asked of you, and you did more than anyone could have imagined.” The tears wouldn’t stop, she grabbed onto Fleur’s hand. Her body was shaking. The veela gently laid Hermione down. She pulled the witch’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “You are safe.” She leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I am here.” She kissed her cheek. “I’ve got you.” She kissed her other cheek.” I promise.” She paused, and then lowered her head to softly kiss her neck. “I’m not going anywhere.” She pulled back and took in Hermione’s face. The tears had stopped. She looked so small. Fleur reached up with her hand and grazed the tip her of finger against Hermione’s lips. She traced along the lower lip and then across the top. “I’ve got you.” She leaned in and brushed her lips at the corner of the witch’s mouth, “I’m yours,” and pressed the promise tenderly. “I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I Bent Toward The Beauty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fleur should let Hermione finish speaking.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey all, thank you for your patience as I adjust to a new school and work schedule. Updating has been a bit more difficult than I anticipated, but the encouragement from the comments and some new friends at the discord has been super helpful. This chapter is dedicated to Lulu who kicking ass at school and life, and just in general makes me chuckle. I hope everyone is well and healthy and that you enjoy the chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione woke up to arms wrapped tightly around her, warm breath against her neck, a firm body pressed against her back, and strong smooth legs intertwined with hers. She felt safe. As she lay in the bed enjoying the feeling of being wrapped in Fleur, the previous night came back in bits and pieces. Her emotions were vacillating between feeling completely embarrassed at falling apart in the middle of the night, and overwhelmed by having the veela comfort her in that way. Again. Her words, her actions. They were almost the same as when they were at Shell Cottage and Fleur nursed her back to life, to sanity, to herself. She felt awash with those same feelings she felt back then. Grateful, safe, warm, loved, protected, worthy, strengthened, renewed. And desire. Desire for more of her, desire for a chance at learning the veela’s heart, and sharing her own. How she wanted Fleur then, and felt so guilty about it. And now, now she had Fleur, in a sense. She had been with her that first night, and second, and they were learning each other, and she was seeing more and more sides of the blonde. More sides of her. A deeper knowing. They were...mates. If she had just turned her head slightly last night, caught Fleur’s lips, kissed her back…If she just gave into this, she could have more. <em> More Fleur </em> . Thoughts of their first time together came unbidden, she couldn’t help it. She tried to stop, but it was like a part of her was determined to bombard her own mind with images and sensations. The veela shifted behind her, lips brushing against her skin. <em> Merlin. </em> </p><p>“Good morning, little lion,” Fleur greeted in a sleepy voice. Hermione closed her eyes and felt a part of her melt at the term of endearment. “How did you sleep? Better, I hope.”</p><p>“Yes, much.” Hermione was determined not to turn around. Not to end the embrace. Not to face Fleur when she continued. “About last night, I’m so sorry for waking you. For putting you through that. It doesn’t happen so much anymore- the nightmares. But sometimes they still come. I don’t know why.” She felt Fleur nuzzle into her neck, find her hand and link their fingers. </p><p>“There is no need to ever apologize for that. We were in a war. You have seen and experienced terrible things. It is to be expected that you would still have nightmares. I am so grateful to hear they do not come to you more often.” The veela paused, then pressed a feather-light kiss to Hermione’s shoulder. “And if they do come again, I will take care of you. I promised.”</p><p>Hermione’s heart felt heavy with want, fear, hope and trepidation. Fleur meant the words she shared with Hermione last night. And if Veela-Fleur had found Hermione worthy enough to care for, Human-Fleur must share those feelings, right? But did she want to have them? Want to act on them? Hermione found herself more and more eager to know. Less and less resistant. She decided to try and trust her gut. She called upon her Gryffindor bravery. </p><p>“Fleur.”</p><p>“Hermione.” The brunette smiled to herself. She loved the way the veela said her name. Her accent had lessened over the years, but there was still a hint of it that she hoped would always be there. She took a breath and turned around. One look into those emotive sky blue eyes and Hermione felt her courage waver. She bit down on her lip trying to stop herself, but felt the words almost being pushed out of her. She opened her mouth to begin, but Fleur spoke first.</p><p>“We both have many open wounds that I believe we can help each other through. We veela have an emotional strengthening and healing practice done between mates. I think it would help you. It would help me too.” Fleur reached out and pushed some of Hermione’s hair behind her ear. </p><p>“Help you how?” The younger witch questioned. Her hands wandered forward and started to play with the hem of the veela’s shirt. Fleur seemed so put together, at least when it came to herself. So sure of herself, so confident. </p><p>“I am hurting too. From the war. From what I have seen, from some of the things I did and some of the things I did not do. I have regret, and I am beginning to see how much it is holding me back from the life I could have. From my destiny.” Fleur held Hermione’s gaze. It felt like she was trying to tell her something without words. </p><p>“I don’t want you to hurt. I am willing to do whatever it takes to help. It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done for me. I want-” </p><p>“You don’t owe me anything, little lion.” Fleur interrupted. Hermione felt it. There was a moment between them, full of something she couldn’t name. The air between them was thick with it. If she could summon the courage, she could kiss Fleur right now. Seal the meaning of her words with her lips. “I am sorry,” Fleur said, her voice laden with sincerity. </p><p>“For what?” Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. This moment was going to pass her by. Again. </p><p>“For all the things I did and did not do.” Fleur was looking at her. Looking in her eyes, gaze caressing down her face, until it fell to Hermione’s mouth. Hermione’s heart stopped. Then. Started again. Again. She leaned in.</p><p>“Good morning Mademoiselle Fleur and Mademoiselle Granger!” Teeny popped into the room. The two women jumped back from each other, startled. "Madame Apolline requests Fleur’s presence in the library immediately." With another loud pop the house elf was gone.</p><p>This kiss flew away. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>“I want it, ok? I want it. I want her. But not like this.” The elders and Apolline had pressed relentlessly for Fleur to explain why she was trying to reject the bond. She wanted Hermione, of course. She didn’t feel like she deserved her, but after last night she knew she wanted to move forward with the bonding process. Seeing her mate still suffering from the memories of the war, and imagining her having those nightmares and waking up alone with no one to comfort her was heart wrenching. The thought of someone else wrapping their arms around her at night was unbearable. “She had no choice in this, and that’s not right. What I want is to stop the bonding process and give her a choice. Is there any way, any way at all, that we can stop it, and start it again later if she accepts?”</p><p>“Fleur. Isabelle.” Apolline’s eyes were closed, her thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of her nose. “What you are trying to suggest is delusional, wishful thinking and naive. You <em> will </em> move forward with the bonding process. If only because you cannot go around for the rest of your life with the woman bound to your side like this and lead the clan. She can’t live her life that way either, and you cannot rule without a mate. This conversation is over.”</p><p>“But mother-”</p><p>“Enough! We have tolerated this nonsense for long enough. As the leader of this clan and as your mother I am telling you that this conversation is over. You will finish it. The only questions you may ask moving forward will pertain to how to complete the bonding process and how to take care of your mate. Elder Giselle will teach you how to do the transcendental partner strengthening practice. Am I understood?”</p><p>Fleur remained quiet. Her eyes were hard, her mouth was closed and pressed into a thin line. What she wanted, what she felt she deserved, doing right by Hermione, doing right by her people, it all seemed in conflict.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione was on edge. She was frustrated, she was tense, and she was bored. Whatever Apolline had told the head of Hermione’s department must have led the witch to believe that Hermione was doing something of great importance here. Her workload was severely reduced. The paperwork she had received the day prior consisted of policies and reports for review with far off deadlines and no other assignments. She had nothing to distract her racing mind. And she was tired. Fatigued. She got up from her desk for a break and walked to the door. She could go and see Fleur, if she wasn’t too busy with the elders. The worst they could do is turn her away again. Perhaps she could work up the nerve to talk to the veela about the almost-kiss last night and this morning (she was sure it was an almost-kiss!) and how she wanted to really kiss today, if that’s what Fleur wanted. Either way they had to, right? To get out of this stasis they were in. She wanted to let Fleur know she was willing, and that she wanted to. </p><p>When Fleur entered the study she almost knocked Hermione to the floor. The poor witch was standing at the door when Fleur opened it. </p><p>“Are you alright?” She asked a wobbly Hermione.</p><p>“Er, yes. Yes. I’m fine. I was just about to head to you actually.” The brunette did her best to regain composure. Her cheeks were hot as she did her best to straighten out her clothes. She felt foolish and awkward. She was behaving positively juvenile. Stuttering, almost falling over, nervous, all because, what? What had changed? </p><p>"It is time for lunch. We are going to take it in the garden today with Elder Giselle. She is going to be teaching us the veela practice I told you about this morning." </p><p>"This morning." <em> Right before the almost-kiss. </em> </p><p>"Oui. This morning." Fleur stepped further into the room and closed the door of the study behind her, never taking her eyes off of the brunette. The tension was back, but where was Hermione’s bravery? Something inside was urging her to push Fleur against the wall, take the kiss, and take any and everything else the veela would give her. </p><p>"Your mark is starting to look better," Hermione opted for small talk instead of bold action. Fleur hummed noncommittally. Hermione searched the veela's face for a sign. Something was different. Her eyes were distant. The Gryffindor took a step closer to Fleur, pushing the boundary of her personal space. Light blue eyes quickly flashed dark sapphire blue before returning to sky. "Fleur-"</p><p>The veela pulled Hermione against her body before leaning down and dragging her tongue across Hermione's mark. The brunette moaned at the sudden action and the feel of her body pressed against Fleur’s. She felt Fleur’s hand snake into her hair, before guiding Hermione’s head down toward her own mark. She began to kiss and lick as well. She could feel Fleur’s body tensing, relaxing, tensing. In an effort to ground the veela Hermione slid her hands up Fleur’s back, grabbed her shoulders and squeezed gently, released, squeezed, released, until the muscles beneath her hands began to loosen. She pulled back to just far enough to look into blue eyes.</p><p>“You can tell me. Whatever it is. You can tell me.” <em> I’m your mate. </em> Fleur just gave a small smile and gently shook her head.</p><p>“It is nothing, Hermione-”</p><p>“Open and honest. We said we would be open and honest.” Fleur’s smile turned into a small smirk. </p><p>“Oui, open and honest. I have a lot on my mind. I want to tell you so much, but I do not know where to start. It is time for us to meet with Giselle. Working with her may help us be able to better communicate in time. Come.” With that, Fleur withdrew from Hermione, took her hand and led her out of the study, out of the manor, and to the garden.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Fleur had meditated before, but this was new. She and Hermione had been sitting across from each on the ground on the greenhouse for the past 30 minutes. Giselle had given them an introduction to the transcendental partner strengthening practice over lunch. Hermione had asked so many questions. It was cute. Fleur enjoyed watching the brunette. Her eyes light up when given new information, her mouth would purse and crook when trying to find the right words, she would roll her wrist when connecting concepts, gesticulate with points of her fingers when asking and asserting. Her whole body was so passionate about understanding and learning. Fleur only asked a few questions herself, not because she knew everything, but because Hermione’s questions had been so thorough that the responses had answered many of Fleur's questions. <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> “The purpose is strengthening, healing and joining through oneness. With your mate, in time, through this practice you will be able to transcend the physical, magical, emotional and mental bounds that limit each one of us individually. This is accomplished by delving deep into ourselves until we have reached a level of awareness, connectedness and detachment that will allow for us to strengthen and become more whole. This can only be accomplished with your mate. Your mate will anchor you and empower you as you open yourself completely to them -mind, body, heart and magic- and help you overcome and cope with the things that come up as you try to reach this level of consciousness.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She had never experienced anything like this before. She could feel Hermione as if they were coursing through each other's bodies. She could sense her emotions, even if she couldn't separate and distinguish each one. She could sense the ebb and flow of her magic. It was delicious and almost teasing. She would get flashes of images of memories in her mind that she knew were from the younger witch in front of her, but they were fleeting and unclear. She tried to reign her own emotions and thoughts in so as not to overwhelm Hermione. Because she was overwhelmed, in such a wonderful way. She felt light headed. </p><p>"That is enough for now." Elder Giselle's voice broke through her thoughts. She opened her eyes to Hermione staring straight back at her. "This is your first time, so I did not expect you to get very far. In time you will advance, but even just the act of making the connection and starting the process will have beneficial effects for you both. Fleur, next time you need to give up some control. You are trying to control every part of your being. Let go. Do not hold back. Hermione, you need to work on letting go in a different sense. You do not need to memorize, catalogue and analyze every feeling, thought, sensation and moment of this practice. That is not the point. Just experience it.” Fleur chuckled at this, but then found herself on the receiving end of a heated glare from the brunette. “This practice should be performed at least three times a day for at least 20 minutes. More is better, of course. I will meet with you both during lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays to monitor and guide you.” The Elder veela then excused herself and headed back to the manor.</p><p>Fleur and Hermione sat in silence. Fleur looked down at her hands, furling and unfurling her fingers. She could almost still feel the soft buzz of Hermione’s magic under her skin. Feel her racing thoughts tickling across the base of her skull. Feel a craving settling beneath her stomach. </p><p>“Fleur, I think maybe...” Fleur raised her head up to see Hermione looking uncomfortable. The brunette was not looking directly at her, and was shifting and fidgeting. “Maybe we should have some space right now? If you don’t mind?” Fleur was immediately concerned. What was wrong? The practice brought mates together. It was supposed to bring them closer, make them feel closer. Why was Hermione pulling away? If anything, Fleur felt she wanted more of the Gryffindor at the moment, in more ways than one. <em> Oh </em>. Fleur watched as Hermione’s hands awkwardly sat atop her lap, trying and failing to cover a growing bulge. </p><p>“Of course,” Fleur stood up swiftly and turned away, trying to save Hermione from some embarrassment. Her eyes roamed over the orchids. “I will be outside.” </p><p>Fleur sat on a bench not far from the greenhouse. She tried to focus on the conversation she would have with Hermione about moving the bonding process along, but her mind kept wandering to what exactly Hermione was doing in the greenhouse at that very moment. Was she...taking care of herself? <em>Stop it!</em> What should she tell Hermione? That her clan demanded they move it along? That she herself wanted to move it along? Her eyes fell to the door and she willed them to see through the barrier to Hermione. <em>Enough! Why am I such a pervert?</em> She snapped her gaze away. Could she tell Hermione that it was both her clan and her desire to move things forward? Should she take the angle of explaining that completing the process would benefit them both exponentially in so many ways. <em>The poor thing is probably aching for relief. Several days without sexual intimacy during a bonding process is unheard of. </em>I am aching<em>, I can’t imagine what she might be feeling. I would only be doing my duty as a mate to make sure she wasn’t suffering. If I just went in there right now…</em> Images of how she would find Hermione came to her mind. Would she be touching herself through her clothes? Would she walk in to find Hermione with her hands down her pants, or her member out? Would she let Fleur…<em> Merde! Enough!</em> But maybe when things progressed she could ask if she could watch Hermione pleasure herself. The thought alone sent a jolt of heat to Fleur’s core. </p><p>The door to the greenhouse opened and Hermione stepped out, looking around slowly for Fleur. When she spotted the veela she walked over, looking a little flushed. Fleur was worried the hue of her own cheeks would give away all the terrible things she was thinking about. She stood up in greeting and worked very hard on keeping her eyes focused above Hermione’s shoulders. </p><p>“Thank you for your understanding about...that. I needed some time to think and, well, sometimes being so close to you can be…” The brunette trailed off. “Anyway, I think we need to talk about this. The bonding process, I mean. From what we have gathered from research, from what the elders have told you, and from what Apolline has said, there really is no way to stop this.”</p><p>Fleur reached out to the back of the bench to try and subtly steady herself. This was it. Hermione was bringing it up.</p><p>“I have been weighing the different possible options for courses of action and potential outcomes. We can’t continue like this. I think we should just complete it. If we complete it then we won’t have to do this,” she gestured between the two of them. “Be practically stuck to each other instead of choosing to be with each other. And how could we live our own lives this way?”</p><p>There it was. Straightforward. Not exactly the heart-filled declaration Fleur was hoping for, but then again, how could she have hoped anything more when Hermione didn’t have a choice in any of this? Fleur was white-knuckling the back of the bench. She was almost concerned that if she gripped it any harder it would crumble in her hands. Almost. She said nothing. </p><p>“So, if we just move forward and complete the process, we can go about our own lives again, can’t we? I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement. This compulsion can be over with and we can be free to make our own choices, pursue what we really want.” </p><p>Fleur’s knees went weak. She was grateful that she was standing in front of the bench. She sat down, closed her eyes. Nausea. This was not how this was supposed to happen. Did Hermione not want her at all? Had she been forcing herself? But what about the moment they shared this morning? She was certain she felt something from Hermione, certain a kiss had almost happened. Unless the brunette had just been ready to kiss her to move the process along? Nausea. Fleur threw up on Hermione’s shoes. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione waited in her room while Apolline tended to Fleur in Fleur’s bedroom. The veela had become suddenly ill outside. It couldn’t have happened at a worse possible time. Or maybe there hadn’t been a better time. She was certain she was botching her moment. Fleur was giving her practically no feedback during her poorly planned speech. She was never one to be romantic or come up with beautiful words, so she had decided to just be herself. To just let Fleur know she had thought this through, and this was the logical way forward. And logic, paired and consistent with want and feelings, what could be more perfect than that? But before she could tell Fleur that a relationship with Fleur was what she truly wanted to pursue, the veela had retched all over Hermione’s shoes.  </p><p>Hermione was itching all over. She was scratching her arms, her neck, her back, her head. That damned greenhouse! She was allergic to something in there, but she kept going back with Fleur because the veela seemed to like being there. She wondered if they had some kind of magical antihistamine somewhere in the manor. Or maybe it wasn’t the orchids at all. Maybe she was just having an allergic reaction to stress. She had read about such a thing. And she was tired, and even achey. Her back was hurting. Again, probably a physical manifestation of stress, and maybe from being away from Fleur. She wanted to check on her, but the blonde insisted that Hermione not concern herself. But that was over an hour ago and Hermione was concerned. And Fleur <em> was </em> her mate after all. <em> That’s it. I’m going </em>.</p><p>Apolline was the one that opened the door when she knocked. She gave the brunette a slow appraisal. Hermione gulped.</p><p>“What took you so long?” Apolline whispered harshly. Before Hermione could answer, the older veela stepped into the hallway and continued. “She is distraught. Fix this.” </p><p>“I, I mean, well, you see-” Hermione didn’t know where to start. She didn’t realize she had done something to upset Fleur. Had suggesting they move forward upset her? Did she do something wrong during the practice? </p><p>“Non, do not do that. I can practically feel your angst and hear your overthinking. Just stop. Just go to her.” Hermione nodded, unsure of what to say. Apolline stepped aside and let Hermione enter the room. </p><p>It was the first time Hermione had entered Fleur’s room. It smelled like Fleur, it looked like Fleur, it <em> felt </em>like Fleur. Hermione relaxed. There was a large canopy bed with curtains elegantly draping down. It looked fit for a princess. On one wall were bookcases and art pieces, while another was almost completely lined with windows. She saw an easel holding a canvas. The painting seemed to be incomplete, with a flower fastened to the top corner. There were multiple canvases fully painted propped up against a nearby desk. Hermione approached, curious about the subjects of Fleur’s creative mind. </p><p>“Où es-tu maman?” a voice called from what Hermione assumed was the en suite. She took a deep and steadying breath and approached the door. She knocked, breathed, and gently opened the door.</p><p>“Fleur, it’s me. Your mother let me in, I-” Hermione happened upon Fleur in a large clawfoot bathtub filled with bubbles. “I’m so sorry! I will just wait in the bedroom.” </p><p>“Non, stop. Come in. It is alright.” Fleur lowered herself slightly in the bath water to Hermione’s relief. She couldn’t bear to try to hold a normal conversation with the veela while seeing so much skin. She walked over and sat on a small stool next to the tub. “Is there something I can help you with?” </p><p>Hermione didn’t know. She didn’t know why she was there. She didn’t know what she was so supposed to fix. She didn’t know what to say. Fleur looked down at the bubbles and absently began to play with them. “Not exactly, no. I wanted to check on you to make sure you were alright.”</p><p>“I am fine. I am sorry about your shoes.” Fleur was using that tone of voice again. Distant, somewhat cold. Hermione didn’t like it one bit. </p><p>“My shoes are already taken care of.” Silence. “Fleur, about what I said before-”</p><p>“You were right. We should just move this forward and get it over with. Shall I kiss you now?” Fleur’s tone was so matter-of-fact it was upsetting Hermione. And then she felt annoyed. </p><p>“Get it over with? I don’t want to treat it like that. That’s not what this is to me.” </p><p>“I think you made it perfectly clear what this is to you. A situation that you must get past. And I do not blame you. You did not ask for this. You did not know what you were getting into. You did not understand then, and you do not understand anything now.” The veela’s words were almost biting at the end. Hermione felt indignant, she had done nothing to deserve the way Fleur was talking to her. </p><p>
  <span>“Now wait just a minute, that’s not fair. I do understand. And I wasn’t finished outside-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it’s not fair. None of this is fair. Not to you and not to me either. And you understand almost nothing, Hermione. Even when I explain it to you, even when I give you books. You do not understand. You make it quite clear often!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about? I’ve been learning what I can, and asking when I do not know. What more do you expect from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I expect you to listen! You are insufferable, do you know that? You ask questions, you get answers, and you still do not get it. I thought you were the brightest witch of your age!” Hermione was livid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have been nothing but patient and respectful about this whole ordeal! And I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know you were in heat, and I feel just terrible about taking advantage like that. But I’m dealing with this too. I’m-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There! That exactly! You are making my point for me.” Fleur’s face was contorted in anger. She leaned forward toward the brunette as she continued to tear into her. “How many times do I have to tell you that you did not take advantage. I am not some victim here. Not some animal a slave to her heat! Is that how you see us veela? Half human, half barbaric animals? If that is the case, I would absolutely hate to see what is going on in that department you are working in. You’re probably setting magical creature rights back while deluding yourself with your savior-complex that you are doing right by them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you!” Hermione stood up from her seat and grabbed onto the rim of the tub. “I, I-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what? You deny it? I have told you, my mother has told you, that it was not like that! And this nonsense you spout about ‘Human-Fleur’ and ‘Veela-Fleur.’ Do you know how ignorant you sound? There is no human version of me. No creature version of me. What, just because I do not have feathers out I cease to be veela? We are one but separate. I told you this. We are the same but distinct. But your simple-minded witch brain cannot comprehend that, so you split me into two. I am not two entities! Me and my inner veela are rooted in one being. But this is too complex for you. For most witches and wizards to understand. You, Hermione Granger, understand so little you should be embarrassed!” Fleur practically laughed out the last part, jutted her chin up at the witch, and leaned back against the tub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione was frozen. And furious. And connecting the dots. Fleur leaning back playing with the bubbles with that smug look on her face was maddening, but there was something else there. She sat back on the stool, started to roll her wrists, move her fingers about to weave her thoughts together. Fleur only lashed out this way when she was trying to mask vulnerability. Hermione had to look past the anger, listen to the words and what they carried. What was Fleur telling her? What did it really mean?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are one and the same, but distinct.” Hermione said aloud, mostly to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oui, that is what I said. 10 points to Gryffindor for that one.” Hermione ignored the sass. She was onto something. She chanced a glance at the veela. Beautiful. Elegant. Feral. Scared. Hermione looked up to the ceiling, trying to visualize the puzzle pieces of all the information she had been gathering over the past few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not a victim.” Hermione let out. The pieces were coming together. Fleur watched her curiously. The brunette closed her eyes and sighed. Her mate was in conflict. She smiled sadly and shook her head at Fleur's attempt to guard herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Non, I am not…” Hermione looked back at the veela. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please do not interrupt me. I am working to understand. I am sorry if I offended you with my concerns about the heat. I never meant that, and I do not view you as a victim to some animal urge. You are an intelligent, kind and powerful woman in my eyes. A woman who has never expressed an interest in me, so I thought the only reason you wanted me that night was due to something outside of your control. That was ignorant. But I am trying. I know better now. I will acknowledge that I do not entirely understand how veela are, how they work. But I acknowledge that I do not have to understand it to respect how you wish me to talk about it. You and your veela are one, but separate. What your inner-veela wants and craves, is not entirely distinct from what you want and crave. And your inner veela has chosen me, and so you, Fleur,” Hermione got off the stool and kneeled on the floor next to the blonde. “You also choose me. You want me too.” Fleur was turning flush. Hermione’s gaze was unrelenting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea what I want. You-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I do. From what you told me. And, we are being open and honest, right? So let’s cut through the bullshit, Fleur. You want this too. Last night and this morning you almost kissed me. And if we are being open and honest, I would have let you. I would let you now, if that’s what you still wanted.” Hermione watched as Fleur’s eyes changed to black, before shifting back to blue. Her heart was beating wildly. She was getting through to the veela. She pressed on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want this but you are also holding back. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it is because this wasn’t your choice either. Maybe it is your pride. Maybe it is because this all has made you feel very vulnerable. Makes you feel vulnerable and unsure. And Fleur Delacour is not known for those things.” Hermione placed her hand on the edge of the tub and slowly moved it toward her mate. “I may not understand everything about veela, about you, but I can see that you are in conflict and hurting, and” Hermione lifted her hand and rested it at the base of Fleur’s neck. “I don’t want you to hurt. I am willing to do whatever it takes to help. It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done for me.” She traced a finger up the length of Fleur’s neck, then began to caress the mark she left on her those few nights ago. “And it’s not because I feel I owe you, or because I feel I have a debt to pay. But because I want to Fleur. I care about you. And I am your mate, and you are mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur’s breath was labored. Her eyes were shifting between being locked on the witch before her, and fluttering heavy and unfocused. Hermione brought her other hand to Fleur’s face and cupped her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Outside, what I said was a mess. It was incomplete. I wanted to tell you that it would make sense for us to move the process forward and free ourselves of the compulsion so that we can be free to make our own choice without being forced together. That we cannot live this way, we cannot make our choices like this. But what I want is for you to be free to have space from me and decide on your own what you want from this once it is complete.” Hermione began to trace Fleur’s lips softly, mimicking the motions Fleur had done to her the night before. “And what I wanted to let you know, but I didn’t get a chance to say, is that I want this. I want to explore this. I care for you, and I’m accepting that what I feel is not some outside force, but that my magic wants you too. And so, if you let me, Fleur, the choice is yours. I’ve made my choice and I’d like to kiss you. Do you accept?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione bit her lower lip nervously. She had laid it all on the line. She had said, to the best of her ability, what she felt and what she wanted. She had given Fleur power and choice, something she was worried that veela had felt robbed of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t deserve you,” Fleur whispered almost inaudibly. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. Her chin quivered. Hermione’s heart cracked. She could not bear for Fleur to hurt like this. Her Fleur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We both have many open wounds that I believe we can help each other through.” Hermione echoed. Fleur let out a small laugh. A single tear descended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are very good at that.” Fleur was smiling. She wiped away the escaped tear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that. Those are my tears to wipe.” Hermione used the pad of her thumb to brush the corners of Fleur’s eyes, releasing and capturing several more tear drops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just kiss me,” Fleur said. Her eyes locked with Hermione’s. “Kiss me now, please.” A simple and quietly desperate request.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Blossoming of Your Desires</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A kiss starts a fire within both women who desperately want to let it consume them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter, but it’s just how it happened. Also, I was not entirely happy with Fleur and Hermione’s dialogue at the end of the last chapter, so I went back and made some adjustments. Not changes to the plot of events, just some thoughts and feelings on Hermione’s part if any of you are interested. </p><p>Also, the title of this chapter and chapter 6 are lines from Kahlil Gibran’s book, The Prophet. A good and classic book of poetry and philosophy. 12/10 recommend. </p><p>As always, thanks for reading and showing love. </p><p>Without further ado:</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fleur couldn't breathe, she was breathless. Lungs refused to inflate, her heart seemed to slow to a halt. She had never begged anyone for anything in her entire life. People begged her, threw themselves at her. Now here she was, for the third time in under a week, begging Hermione for more. Perhaps Hermione had a thrall of her own. Hermione’s delicate hands cradled Fleur’s face as if carefully handling a rare piece of art. That’s how Fleur felt when Hermione touched her and looked at her this way. Hermione held such power over Fleur, and she probably didn’t even know it. </p><p>Time slowed. This wasn’t enough. Her inner veela was screaming at her to lean in and take the kiss, but Fleur wanted Hermione to initiate it. She wanted Hermione to make the first move, somehow show that it was her choice. She wanted so much to believe the words Hermione had said, but she wanted more to feel it in her actions. She opened her mouth to beg again, but saw Hermione’s tongue slowly slip out to wet her own lips. Fleur whimpered. </p><p>She couldn’t move. She watched as Hermione slowly leaned in. Felt Hermione’s hand gently tilt her face, caress her mark. Fleur’s eye dropped from honey brown orbs to pale pink lips. There was a buzz underneath her skin. Hermione’s magic. Fleur felt light headed. Her lids dropped heavily, and then it happened.</p><p>Hermione’s lips ghosted over Fleur’s. For a touch so light it sent such a hot heat coursing through the veela. Fleur gasped. Lungs and heart returned to function. And then Hermione gave her more. Pressed more firmly, and gently pulled Fleur’s face closer. Smooth lips were gliding against her own. Synapses fired. Fleur parted her lips and began to kiss the Gryffindor back. She heard Hermione’s breath catch, the kiss stopped. Eyes flung open and they locked with each other. Fleur’s heart was pounding. Hermione <em> fucking </em> Granger had kissed her. Her body was buzzing, her heart was soaring. The younger witch withdrew her hand from Fleur’s neck and touched her own lips before gently reaching those same fingers forward and brushing them across Fleur’s.</p><p>“Magnificent,” She whispered, before leaning in and taking Fleur’s lips again. Fleur was enthralled. She had dreamt of this, fantasized about it. Hermione’s mouth on her own, but it was nothing compared to the real thing. She was being rendered a useless mess. She felt more magic running through her, and hers rushing out of her and into the brunette. Hermione’s hand slid from the veela’s cheek to her chin, gently pressed down, and opened Fleur’s mouth to her. Fleur all too willingly obliged and Hermione’s tongue slid into her mouth and found her own. At first touch they both moaned. Hermione withdrew the muscle, just for a moment, before entering Fleur’s mouth again. Fleur’s hands snaked into brown locks and pulled her mate closer, granted more access, allowing, <em>begging</em>, the Gryffindor to drink her in, consume her. </p><p>It was too much and excruciatingly not enough. The sounds Hermione was making, the way she laid claim to Fleur’s mouth, the confident sensual movements of her lips, tongue, and hands. Fleur was melting. She was purring. She was on fire. Her hands dropped from Hermione’s hair and she started to tug at her shirt, pulling her forward. Without breaking the kiss, Hermione began to rise from her knees, and following Fleur’s needy hands, allowed herself to be pulled into the tub. Settling on top of the veela, she continued to kiss her senseless. When Fleur felt that first nip at her lower lip she let out a growl. Hermione did it again, harder. Fleur bit back, before plunging her tongue into the Gryffindor’s mouth to take from her in turn. She couldn’t get enough. She needed more. More of the witch’s beautiful mouth. More of her magic ravaging her body. <em> More Hermione</em>. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>“You’re late.” Appoline chastised, but there was a mischievous glint in her green eyes. Fleur and Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink. They murmured apologies and sat down to join the matriarch. The trio began to eat in silence. Apolline was pleased. It was obvious. They were glowing. Quite literally. A faint aura was emanating around them both. She smirked. </p><p>“Teeny,” Apolline called. The elf apparated into the dining room. “I’m feeling, I don’t know, positively giddy this evening!” The older veela clasped her hands together and smiled brightly. </p><p>“Is that so, mistress?” Teeny enquired.</p><p>“It <em> is </em> so, Teeny! Please go to the cellar and fetch some champagne. The Louis Roederer Cristal Orfevres Brut Millesime! Two bottles!” Teeny’s eyes went wide but quickly disappatated. </p><p>“Maman, what are we celebrating?” Fleur eyed the woman suspiciously. Hermione looked on curiously between the mother-daughter pair. </p><p>“Oh, can’t I just want to share some delicious champagne with my daughter and her mate? I am just so happy that you have found each other! Besides, you two have been awfully quiet this evening. Perhaps after <em> imbibing </em> something so exquisite, you will loosen your…. <em> lips </em>?” The red that splashed across her daughter’s cheeks and neck absolutely delighted Apolline. The brunette was not faring much better. Teeny reappeared and promptly filled their glasses. Apolline raised hers in the air and gestured for the mates to follow suit. “To love!” </p><p>The dinner returned to its previous silence. Apolline observed the stolen glances between the two women with glee. She couldn’t help herself. </p><p>“Hermione, ma fille, weren’t you wearing something different today?” </p><p>The brunette choked on her champagne. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Fleur excused herself from the table after she finished eating. Hermione saw her cast a not-so-subtle glance her way before she exited the dining room. She wasn’t sure what to do. </p><p>“I believe that is your cue,” Apolline stated before throwing Hermione a wink. The Gryffindor made no effort to hide her eagerness as she leapt to her feat and followed after the blonde.</p><p>She saw Fleur standing at the foot of the grand staircase waiting for her. As she approached, Fleur took a step up. Hermione stopped, and so did Fleur. She took another step forward, and the veela took another step up. Hermione raised her eyebrows at the blonde and tried to hide a growing smile. Fleur bit her lower lip and smirked in challenge before running up the stairs. Hermione followed in hot pursuit. She grabbed the railing to steady herself as she turned and bounded up the steps. She watched Fleur’s hair whip wildly behind her as she continued up the stairs and turned to run down the hallway. The veela’s laughter was so pure and care-free Hermione couldn’t help but laugh too. She knew where Fleur was headed, as she made it to the top of the stairs she bolted to Fleur’s room. She stopped outside the door to collect herself before turning the knob and entering. </p><p>Before she could survey the room Fleur had grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her in. She closed the door with her foot and pushed Hermione against before clashing their mouths together. </p><p>Hermione’s knees went weak. If Fleur hadn’t been pressing against her body the way that she was Hermione might have collapsed. She gathered herself and kissed back. She was kissing Fleur. Fleur Delacour. Fleur <em> fucking </em> Delacour. It was everything. Her hands had a mind of their own. They were all over the veela. Running up and down her arms, grabbing her back, her neck, her face. Each time their tongues met Hermione felt bolts of electricity shoot through her being. Fleur stepped away but Hermione pulled her back. She couldn’t stop. What if this was too good to be true? What if she only had tonight and then Fleur changed her mind? <em> She won’t change her mind just like I won’t change mine. We are mates </em>.</p><p>“Bed.” Fleur managed out between kisses. Without breaking their kiss Hermione planted her hands on Fleur’s hips and guided her to their destination. Fleur crawled backward on the bed while Hermione followed, crawling on top of her. Fleur’s taste was divine. She could kiss her all night. The veela seemed to have additional plans as she wrapped her legs around Hermione and began to grind against her. Hermione hadn’t even noticed that she was already fully erect, but with Fleur moving like that she became painfully aware. </p><p>“Clothes.” Fleur demanded. Hermione pulled back and grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the floor. She looked down at Fleur and grabbed the hem of her shirt when she noticed Fleur starting to transform. Feathers were appearing and then disappearing. Eyes went sapphire to black to sapphire again. </p><p>“Are you ok?” Hermione checked in. </p><p>“Yes! <em> Yes </em>. I’m just excited. And so is she.” Fleur leaned up and bit Hermione’s neck before dragging her tongue across her mark. Hermione groaned and then pulled the veela’s shirt off. Her mouth missed Fleur’s, and so she leaned back in to take it. </p><p>Kissing Fleur was like taking her in a new way. Yes, the sex had been phenomenal. Being inside the veela was ecstasy. Making her orgasm, orgasming with her, was rapture. But kissing Fleur? This was euphoria. Every cell in her body was yearning for it and reveling in it. That first kiss had sent shockwaves through the Gryffindor. She felt Fleur’s magic surge through her body. She had no doubt that’s what it was. It was passionate, warm, powerful, and tantalizing. There was something inside of her that needed it, that had been waiting and craving for that moment, perhaps for years. It told her to forget about reason and just keep kissing the veela as if her life depended on it. That’s what it felt like. She didn’t hesitate to get into the tub fully clothed. It was not worth breaking the kiss to deal with something so trivial as wet clothes. Not when she was kissing her mate. <em> My mate. My mate. </em> Fleur was panting underneath her and started to whimper, pulling at Hermione’s pants. <em> My mate needs me. </em> Hermione felt her chest swell with pride and purpose. </p><p>She sat up and quickly made work of removing her pants. She never broke eye contact with Fleur as she reached forward and pulled Fleur’s off as well. The veela was laying on her back clad in her bra and panties, breasts heaving, hands clenching sheets, legs open and inviting Hermione between them. She watched Fleur’s eyes continue to shift between hues. There were feathers in her hair, and she could almost sense them bristling under the veela’s skin. Hermione’s cock throbbed painfully. She sat on her heels and rested her palms on the insides of Fleur’s knees.</p><p>“Tell me what you want,” Hermione instructed. Fleur would make her choice this time. </p><p>“You know what I want. What I need. You, ma moitié.” Fleur let the partial transformation set in. Plumes blossomed, teeth were bared. Feral. Beautiful. </p><p>“I need you to say it. And I need...I need you to also say it while untransformed.” </p><p>"She wants it, she needs it! She's begging me to beg you. I don't mind, I will beg for you. Anything for you, ma lionne." Fleur reached forward and started stroking Hermione's cock through her underwear. The pleasure brought to her from that simple touch had the witch gasping. </p><p>"Hermione please take me. Fill me. Any part of me, any way you like." <em> Merlin. </em>The veela was purring as she groped Hermione's member. </p><p>"Fleur, you feel so good….ah….but I need...I need all of you." Hermione had committed, to herself and to Fleur, to not move forward this way until she had consent from both parts. But the veela was relentless. Her other hand started roaming over Hermione’s breasts, pinching nipples through the fabric of her bra. The brunette leaned down on top of Fleur, face burying into the crook of her neck. She was trying to get a hold of herself, her senses, but her body wasn't listening. It was overcome. Fleur's warmth, her scent, her soft skin. The way she was begging for Hermione. <em> My mate needs me </em>. She positioned herself so her cock was flush against Fleur’s still covered center and she began to rock against the veela. The friction, the heat, she felt so good. </p><p>"Oui, Hermione….oh, like that," Fleur's voice was full of want. It spurred Hermione on. She grabbed the veela's hips and pulled her against her thrusts. This wasn't enough. She sat up and went to remove the rest of their clothes, but when she looked up at Fleur's face and saw eyes shift from black to blue and back again, she stopped. She couldn't do this. A painful disappointment filled her chest. Longing to keep going. But she made a promise. </p><p>"Fleur. The practice." She was reaching for anything in her mind to ground herself and pull them from back the point of no return. </p><p>"Quelle?" Black eyes narrowed in confusion. </p><p>"Three times a day, right? It's important to me. For us. Can we just, slow down? Can we do that first? I want to connect with all of you." Something wasn’t right, and she needed connection and reassurance. The veela looked ready to object, but she took in Hermione’s face and nodded assent. </p><p>Hermione slid her arms around Fleur’s waist and sat back, pulling the blonde onto her lap. Fleur clasped her hands behind the brunette’s neck. They worked to calm their breathing, every now and then stealing a brief kiss from the other. Breaths became calm and even. Hermione’s hands smoothed over plumage. Fleur’s fingers traced over vertebrae. Foreheads rested against each other. </p><p>“Are you ready?” Fleur asked.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>They synced the rhythm of their breaths. Inhaling, holding, exhaling, holding, on count and in time. Hermione stripped away her thoughts and her feelings to the best of her ability. Acknowledging them and letting them go as they came to the forefront of her mind. She tuned in to her magic, sensing it flow in her body. She encouraged it forward into Fleur, and opened herself to her veela. It took some time, but a current built between them. </p><p>Hermione felt flooded, surrounded, by Fleur. She felt safe. She felt embraced. Fleur was pulsing through her blood, flashing through her mind. There was a warmth spreading through her, nuzzling her heart, soothing her head. Flashes of Fleur. Of their first time. Just as quickly as the images and sounds appeared they disappeared. Echoes of the blonde’s laughter. The feel her lips on hers. The fear that Fleur would regret it. That fear was not as fleeting as the other thoughts and feelings. It weighed heavy on her chest, and then it was as if Fleur’s magic could sense it. She felt the tide of magic shift in her body and flow into her chest. The ache of fear dissolved into lightness and peace. They continued. Hermione felt out of body. She couldn’t tell where she ended and Fleur began. It was a little frightening. A part of her wanted to pull away, she sensed something close to agony. </p><p>It wasn’t hers. She stayed present, deciding not to withdraw just yet. She wanted to examine this feeling. It was heavy. It was black. It was Fleur’s. Not understanding why she knew how to, but not questioning it, Hermione pushed her magic toward the dark mass. Encased it. <em> What is this? </em> It hurt. She wanted to cry for Fleur. <em> Shame. Guilt </em>. Hermione focused on feelings of compassion, admiration, and love. Conjured light and warm webs of magic. Opened herself further. Fleur pulled out. </p><p>When the Gryffindor opened her eyes she saw Fleur’s clenched shut. Tears were streaming down her face. Hermione pulled her in gently, pressed lips to wet trails. Hands that were smoothing down feathers suddenly made contact with skin. Fleur’s body was shaking with silent sobs. Hermione shifted, carefully holding onto her mate, and gently laid her onto her back. She hovered over Fleur, taking her in, before kissing her forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, chin. She kissed every inch of Fleur’s face. She kissed her ears, down her neck, across her throat. She shifted down and peppered her collarbone and shoulders with the same treatment. Her hands smoothed up and down arms. Fingers laced together and she brought each hand to her mouth, kissed each finger tip, each knuckle, the hollows of her palms. She made her way back up, trying to communicate without words her care, affection, and dedication to Fleur’s peace. She didn’t know what to say, what words to use. So she just kept pressing lips to skin, mouth to mouth, let hands touch tenderly, in hopes that the veela would understand. Hermione wasn’t going anywhere. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>The next morning Fleur found herself wrapped tightly in Hermione’s arms. The witch’s lips were still pressed against her shoulder. She had fallen asleep kissing Fleur. The veela had never experienced anything like that before. It broke her heart to be tended to so beautifully. <em> Why? </em> Why did Hermione have to be so damn wonderful? Every part of her wanted to reject it, and at the same time craved more of it. The little lion could piece her back together, bring her back to life. </p><p><em> Bill was a good man. He deserved better </em> . <em> Hermione deserves better </em>.</p><p>How she wanted Hermione the night before. Badly. How she had wanted her for so long. And Hermione kissed her last night. She kissed her! Fleur needed the rest of her. If she could fall apart in bliss from a kiss, how else would the brunette ruin her? She wanted to find out. She wanted to give her body over to Hermione completely. Of course she felt her and was present during those first nights, but this would have been different. She knew that. And so she hid herself. She called upon her inner veela to take over. She hadn’t let anyone touch her since Bill, and she had never let Bill make love to her when she was partially transformed. Hardly let him see her in that state. If she let herself go with Hermione the way she had wanted to, Hermione would have had more of her than she had ever given to her husband. </p><p>Fleur had taken from her late husband. Taken the opportunity to find someone who could love him completely. In a sense she had taken his life too, hadn’t she? Potentially cost many people their lives. And if she took from Hermione, gave to Hermione, would it be dishonoring Bill further? A slap in the face to all those she had failed? If loving Hermione, because that was definitely the direction her heart was headed, could be so perfect and fulfilling, was everything else for nothing? </p><p>Hermione stirred and murmured the veela’s name in her sleep. Fleur’s heart swelled. <em> Bill was not our mate </em>, her inner veela reminded her. Fleur sighed. She knew that. She brushed her hand through Hermione’s hair, kissed the crown of her head. She was going to have to figure this out. Hermione shifted and Fleur became all too aware of every point of contact between their bodies. Damn her Gryffindor for being such a gentlewoman last night! Fleur wasn't sure how much longer she could last.</p><p><br/>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Seek and Ye Shall Find</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Greetings and sorry for the delay. Summer courses are a lot more work than I thought they would be!<br/>This chapter may not be what you expected. It's not what I expected. But here we are.</p><p>TW/CW: mental health crisis; crisis episode</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It is ok. Hermione, it is ok. Je suis là. I am here. You are safe. You are safe with me. It’s me, Fleur. You are with me, your mate, you are safe. We are home in France. Notre maison. We are home, and you will always be safe with me, ma moitié.” </p><p>Hermione’s stirrings had turned into a fitful sleep. Her face contorted, her breath was frantic, and small cries were escaping. She was crying Fleur’s name. The veela held the brunette closer and started to caress hands through hair and whisper words of comfort punctuated with light kisses, trying to ease the distressed Gryffindor from whatever was haunting her in her dreams. Hermione’s body began to still. Her breathing evened out. Fists relaxed and unclenched. </p><p>Long after the brunette had calmed, Fleur continued tending to her witch. Hands smoothed through hair and trailed down arms. Lips brushed and pressed against her face. It was as if Fleur was trying to make up for lost time. Make up for the nights she wasn’t there. Make up for the time wasted apart. Where would Hermione be now if Fleur had chosen her all those years ago? Would her mind and heart have been healed from the invisible wounds of war? Would they have a child by now? Children? What color- </p><p>Fleur’s thoughts were interrupted by the light press of soft lips against her collarbone. Another one. It was so small and light it almost tickled. She smiled at the thought that, truly, her mate had fallen asleep kissing her and it appeared she would wake up doing the same. What if it could be like this every morning and night? Lazy kisses to bookend their days. Kisses under the moon and stars, and kisses waking with the rising sun. <em> It could be this way if you let it</em>, her inner veela reminded her. Fleur considered it in that moment- being selfish; just giving in. She looked down at her mate and examined her as she began to awaken. Fleur adored the slow and heavy blinking of Hermione’s dark eyelashes in the glow of the morning light. The way her freckles stood out more in the orange and yellow rays shining through the window. Brown eyes met blue. Cheeks flushed pink. Hermione pressed her forehead into Fleur’s shoulder as if to hide her face.</p><p>“Good morning,” Fleur greeted Hermione with a smile. </p><p>“Good morning,” Hermione spoke into the blonde’s shoulder. </p><p>Fleur’s heart swelled. Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, rising talent in her country’s ministry of magic, member of the Golden Trio, a savior of the wizarding world, was quite cute. Fleur couldn’t help but wrap her arms around her mate and squeeze in an affectionate embrace. </p><p>“Are you ready for the partner practice?”</p><p>“Only if we can do it like this.” </p><p>“Fine by me.”</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>During breakfast Hermione felt peculiar. She felt giddy, which was strange because she wasn’t sure if she ever felt giddy in her entire life. It was easy enough to deduce the source. It was Fleur. When Hermione awoke this morning kissing Fleur’s skin, she expected the veela to push her away or disentangle herself immediately. Instead Hermione found herself pulled closer. Their partner practice had been sweet and left them feeling connected and light. Gone was the heaviness from the night before. Something had shifted in Fleur. Hermione dared to hope that it was the beginning of the end of Fleur’s resistance to their bond. And now Fleur had seated herself next to, and closely to, the Gryffindor, instead of across the table as usual.</p><p>A mix of confidence and compulsion prompted Hermione to reach for Fleur’s hand and entwine their fingers. Fleur did not resist. Hermione squeezed before loosening her grip and tracing her index finger down each of Fleur’s digits and then along the creases of her palm. Fleur did not resist. Emboldened, Hermione slid her fingers between the blonde’s again, took hold, lifted their joined hands to her mouth and kissed the tops of her mate’s knuckles. Each one. Fleur did not resist. Their eyes met. Fleur smiled and did not look away. The brunette turned her head slightly from side to side, grazing her lips against the back of Fleur’s hand. Fleur did not resist. The veela reached forward with her other hand to push some stray hair behind Hermione’s ear. She let her hand linger a few moments before pulling the Gryffindor in for a chaste kiss. Hermione did not resist. She deepened it. </p><p>“Bonjour mes filles,” Apolline sang as she entered the dining room. When her eyes found the pair of mates her smile widened. Hermione made to move away, but Fleur didn’t let her get far. She chased the brunette’s lips with her own and gave one final kiss before focusing her attention on her mother. </p><p>“Bonjour maman.” </p><p>“You two have no idea how much joy it gives me to see you both moving forward together with the bond.” The matriarch clutched her hands together to contain her excitement.</p><p>Hermione’s heart was still recovering from kissing Fleur only moments ago. She was growing quite fond of Apolline, but wished the woman was anywhere but in the same room as them at the moment. She couldn’t help the feeling of irritation within her. She wanted to keep kissing Fleur, feeling Fleur. Now that they had completed two of the steps of the bonding process, and Fleur did not seem to be pushing her away, did this mean they could do that more often? More Kissing? <em> More Fleur? </em> She felt the veela squeeze her hand as if sensing her thoughts. Brown eyes and blue. Fleur brought Hermione’s hands to her lips and kissed the tops of each knuckle. Apolline squeaked and giggled at the head of the table. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>“Fleur, this is wonderful news!” </p><p>“Finally! We are so happy for you!”</p><p>“This was the right decision. Let go and continue to follow your heart!” </p><p>The elders were pleased to say the least when they discovered that Fleur and Hermione had completed another step in the bonding process. They praised her and practically passed her around to hug and kiss her in congratulations. As much as Fleur wanted to resist, she could not help but smile and thank them for their well wishes and encouragement. When she tried to cover her grin with her hands, her mother pulled her hands away and scolded her with a laugh. </p><p>“You are happy! This is a good thing! Why try to hide it? Let us share in it with you.” </p><p>“Oui, ma fille, this is what you want, correct?” Voiced Giselle.</p><p>“Why downplay this wonderful moment? Rejoice!” Said another elder.</p><p>“I don’t know, I <em> am </em> happy.” She looked around at the elders who were glowing. She couldn’t help but gush, “I am <em> so </em> happy!” Fleur let out with light laughter. She was grinning from ear to ear and fidgeting with her braid. “It’s just…”</p><p>“What is it, cherie? Is it Bill?” Apolline asked knowingly. Fleur sighed and nodded.</p><p>“I’m just having trouble letting go. I don’t mean just letting go of him. I mean letting go of…” Fleur didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t know where to begin. She felt shame and guilt and let her gaze drop to her feet. But then there were reassuring touches on her shoulders, her back, her arms. She looked up to see her mother standing before her. The elders had circled around Fleur and laid their hands on her. </p><p>“My daughter,” Apolline started solemnly. “We are not ashamed of you.” The elders murmured in agreement. “The past is in the past. We cannot change it. You cannot change it. You are here and now, and what you do here and now is what matters. We will be behind you and support you. You are not alone. You are veela -we are veela- and we are proud of you. We believe in you, Fleur. Are you ready now? Ready to honor your clan, honor your mate, and honor yourself?”</p><p>Fleur fought tears from spilling over. She had a choice to make. She could be powerful or she could be pitiful. She was veela with a clan she had to prepare to one day lead, and a mate she had promised herself she would care for and protect. She steadied a quivering lip, straightened her back, raised her chin, and met her mother’s eyes. She would be powerful. </p><p>“Oui, maman. Je suis prêt.” </p><p>“This will not be easy. You know there is much you must do to prepare for the final step of the bonding process.”</p><p>“Oui, je sais.” Fleur felt a growing determination. She would meet any challenge that came her way. It was in her nature, but particularly now that it also concerned Hermione. </p><p>“You must open up to your mate, talk to her, and continue the transcendental partner strengthening practice. Anything you hold back will hinder the bond,” Giselle instructed Fleur. Fleur nodded. Another elder spoke and Fleur turned to her. </p><p>“Physical and magical training will begin today. Your abilities and power will start to increase now. It is of utmost importance that you work to master them,” elder Veronique stated. Fleur nodded to her as well. “These trainings will be hard, sometimes dangerous, and they will test your limits. I believe in you and I will stand by you.”</p><p>Veronique kissed both of Fleur’s cheeks, then her forehead. Fleur’s heart was full, and she bowed deeply. She turned to each elder after that. They all repeated Veronique’s last words, her actions, and Fleur bowed in thanks for their blessing and commitment to her. Each blessing strengthened and empowered her. When she finally turned to her mother, Apolline’s eyes were filled with pride. </p><p>“Let us begin.”</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione was curled up on the settee in the study. She had quickly given up on going through the paperwork from her job. Documents that had been previously ordered meticulously on the large oak desk were now scattered and strewn about. She had tried to focus on her work, but the task quickly proved futile. At first it was her mind wandering to Fleur. To Fleur’s lips, hands, feathers, eyes. She missed seeing and running her hands over the veela’s wings. Then images of what could have happened last night, what could happen in any coming night if Fleur consented, invaded her thoughts. </p><p>Then came the aches, the fatigue, the itching and sweating. Her hands, her back, her body <em> hurt </em>. She didn’t understand. She felt depleted and ready to give in to sleep, except she couldn’t sleep because of the aches and the itching. Over the past few days the distance between the study and the library hadn’t affected her like this. Not to this extent. She reluctantly called for Teeny and asked for chocolates. They provided some relief to Hermione but not enough. She was about to call the house elf back and request some pain and allergy potions when she was suddenly doubled over in pain.</p><p>Dull aches turned into sharp pain. She felt anxiety. Fear. Adrenaline. Danger. <em> Fleur </em>. </p><p>In less than a second she was on her feet with her wand drawn from its holster and ran out of the study. She sprinted down the hall with portraits shouting after her in French as she knocked over a small console table and messed the runner with her sprint. She didn’t slow her mad dash until she got to the heavy double doors. She grasped the handles firmly and pulled, but they wouldn’t open. She heard shouts, bangs, and inhuman noises. Hermione was filled with dread. </p><p>“Fleur!” She yelled at the top of her lungs and began pounding at the door “Fleur, open up! Are you ok? Fleur! Open up!” </p><p>Hermione leapt back and began the wand movements and incantation for a bombarda when the door flung open. What she saw shook her to her core. An elder veela that she could not remember the name of stepped out quickly before shutting the door behind her, but not before Hermione saw Fleur. Her mate had fallen to one knee, was bloodied, partially transformed with one great wing extended behind her, and her wand pointed at a target out of Hermione’s line of vision. </p><p>“Hermione Granger, you cannot be here right now.” Hermione’s eyes snapped to the elder’s. She was a slight and pale woman with hair and eyes as black as midnight. The veela’s voice was low and firm. Hermione felt the chill of threat run down her spine. </p><p>“This is your only warning to remove yourself from between me and my mate and allow me immediate entry” Hermione snarled, raising her wand at eye level and dropping her right foot back in a well-practiced, ready and athletic stance. </p><p>"It is not what you think, Fl-” Hermione’s wand whipped forward without a second thought as she wordlessly cast a stupey at the woman’s chest. The elder managed to throw up a shield to protect herself from the blow, but Hermione levied spell after spell and began to advance. The veela’s eyes turned impossibly darker, feathers and wings shot forth, and she held her protective barrier in place. <em> Danger </em> . Hermione found her consciousness momentarily tugged between the past and the present. Flashes of Bellatrix Lestrange appeared and disappeared. She became confused. Who was this woman before her? Where was she now? <em> In danger. Fleur is in danger</em>.</p><p>“Hermione, I will not harm you, but you must stop. Fleur is-” Hermione shot off three explosive spells, each more powerful than the previous, in quick succession. A 'bombarda'  at the floor below the veela’s feet, 'expulso' at the shield, and 'confringo'  at the door. The elder ended up on her back down the hall, and the wizarding war veteran had no obstacles left between her and entry to the library. She entered, wand raised and ready. </p><p>A dozen transformed veela stood facing her, protective shields in place. Their hands were lowered, but Hermione eyed their postures. At any moment they could attack. They would attack. She’d seen this before. <em> Constant vigilance. </em> These were not good odds, but she’d faced worse as a child against death eaters out for blood. She spotted Fleur on the ground in front of the fireplace, Apolline next to her in her own protective shield. <em> Betrayal. </em> Apolline’s mouth was moving, but Hermione could only hear her own heartbeat in her ears. Eyes darted back to the larger group that appeared to be slowly approaching, mouths also opening and closing. <em> Fumos </em>. </p><p>A thick smokescreen plumed from the tip of her wand and quickly filled the room. <em> Don’t stay still</em>. She dropped and rolled to the left, in the opposite direction of where her mate was and behind a sofa. <em> Be unpredictable</em>. She stayed low, peered around the edge of the furniture and began to lay traps on the floor. All she could hear was a distant ringing in her ears and her own blood pulsing through her body. <em> It must be some kind of disorienting spell</em>. <em> Focus</em>. Hermione lowered her body completely flush down to the floor and planted her ear to its surface. She could feel vibrations. Movement. The thrumming of magic. She had seen about 12 when she entered, but there could always be more laying in wait. There were always more. Always more. </p><p>Hermione crawled away from the sofa and around the side of one of the large bookcases. She began to cast out spells: small explosions, distracting lights, and scattered stunners to cause chaos and movement. Hisses and screeches of Veela punctured into Hermione’s consciousness. They must have been stumbling over each other and across traps. If they were maimed, they were maimed. If they died, they died. <em> Keep Harry alive at all costs</em>. All costs. <em> Fleur. Harry. No. Fleur. Get to Fleur. Keep your mate alive at all costs</em>. </p><p>She looked around the edge of the bookcase into smoke. She saw terrible winged figures. Saw the dark marks. Some had masks. Saw children lifeless on the ground. <em> Not again. Not again. </em> She turned back and out of sight. She squeezed her wand tightly in her hands. She pushed the cries of pain away. Pushed the images of death and dismemberment into blackness. Turned off her emotions. This was how you survived a battle.</p><p>She heard heaving beating noises. She glanced out again and saw powerful wings flapping in sync to drive away the smog. Her cover was gone. They all looked fine. Uninjured. Their protective shields were still in place. <em> Fuck </em>. How powerful were veela?</p><p>“Hermione!” Her name echoed and sounded miles and miles away.</p><p>“Hermione!” Closer. Veela stood at the windows, the entryway, around the room, eyes scanning for her. She couldn’t take them all at once. </p><p>“Hermione!” Her head snapped to Fleur. Fluer was standing by the fireplace. Her last chance. She took a breath, raised her wand arm and began a circling motion overhead as she sprinted forward. </p><p>Hermione conjured a rope of fire above her, and with a sharp whip of her arms and snap of her wrist set it upon the room to create a boundary of flames between her and the veela, pushing them back. She could only see Fleur ahead of her as she ran. She was standing, but flashes of images of her laying in a pool of blood assaulted Hermione’s senses. What was real? She kept running, but it felt like she was moving in slow motion. Fleur was standing and yelling her name. But then she was broken on the floor. No, Fleur was standing, calling Hermione’s name. Hermione was so close; she reached out for her mate. Then it hit her. Her body was overcome, her mind was clouded, by something...something….</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione!” Fleur cried again. Her witch was not present. She was here in the library, but she was somewhere else entirely. Her eyes were wild, her movements and spells were severe and  reacting to nonexistent threats. She tried to get the elders to hold off, but at this point Hermione was becoming a danger to herself and others. She saw the moment their thralls made contact with her mate. Hermione slowed, her mouth fell open, and her movements became heavy. </p><p>“Fleur…” She reached Fleur wrapped her arms heavily around the blonde's waist. Hermione tried to pull her to the fireplace but Fleur resisted. Fleur attempted to steady her witch but the brunette had stumbled out of reach. Hermione grabbed for floo powder. Her senses were being slowly overcome by the controlled thrall of the elders in the room. It was like she couldn’t hear Fleur at all. Nothing the veela said was reaching her ears. Fleur watched with tears streaming down her face as Hermione tried to fight against it. Her witch believed she was trying to save her. She had seen this before in Bill. Hermione was having some kind of flashback, and she was stuck wherever it had brought her. She watched as the floo powder ineffectually fell through the brunette’s fingertips, watched as the Gryffindor sunk to the floor on her knees muttering her address over and over while reaching her other hand to Fleur. Her words became increasingly less clear, her mouth moving more lazily, her head rolled to the side.</p><p>“Fleur, you must-” Giselle started</p><p>“I know” Fleur interrupted. She lowered herself in front of her mate and cupped the brunette’s face in her hands. “Can you please begin to withdraw?” Fleur asked over her shoulder to the elders. Veronique nodded and signaled to the others. </p><p>Hermione looked absolutely catatonic. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Her body was limp and loose. It broke Fleur’s heart. She leaned in, pressed her forehead against Hermione’s and released some of her own thrall. She pushed forward comfort, safety, and the aroma of lavender. She took a breath and slowly entered her lover’s mind. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>She was laying still on her back. Eyes were looking up at a cruel gray and smokey sky. Noises in the distance warned of something ominous. Of danger. There were cries. She was sure she had heard them before. <em> No. Not again</em>. Hermione was at the Battle of Hogwarts. Or was she? </p><p>She clenched her eyes shut and rolled onto her hands and knees. Her left hand was pressed into soft, cool, summertime grass. Her right hand was pressed into something sticky and warm. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know what it was. The odor was unmistakable. She knew that smell. Death. Burnt flesh. Eviscerated bowels. She was surrounded by carnage. She let out a sob of despair. She thought she was done with this. This was supposed to be over! She couldn’t do this again! She couldn’t- </p><p>An explosion followed by a sickening groan of heavy stone giving way caused Hermione to look up in time to watch a great spiral of one of Hogwarts' towers slide downward, pitch over and fall to the grounds. She stifled her cries. This was not the time. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run, but a voice inside pushed forward. <em> Save your mate</em>. Fleur. That’s what she had been trying to do before she ended up back here. </p><p>She scanned around for her wand, but it was nowhere to be found. <em> You’re running out of time. </em>Hermione wiped her hand off on some clean grass. She got to her feet and took in the scene before her. The ground had patches soaked in blood. In the distance she saw a giant with a student in hand. She turned away as it began to sling the young wizard into the Forbidden Forest. Spells were ricocheting off of shields and walls, and landing with terrible noises as bodies absorbed curses and hexes The Death Eaters were toying with them, that much was clear. If only she could cast without wand and word. She felt her hands grow hot. She had somewhere to be. With or without her wand, she had to find Fleur. As she began to jog across the grounds a breeze carrying the scent of lavender caught her attention. She was tempted to change route, follow it to its source. It was out of place and comforting, calling to her. But she had to find Fleur. She took a breath and continued on. </p><p>Hermione watched behind a crumbling pillar as her likeness cut down another foe. The human body had so much blood. You could never really grasp how much was inside until one was opened in front of you and you watched it all pour out. She watched bodies fall in her wake creating a winding red river. She stepped around them as she continued her pursuit. They were mostly bodies of grown witches and wizards, but she could not ignore the slighter figures dressed in green robes. She watched as a Death Eater apparated behind her likeness. She did not remember that. Just as she was about to scream a warning, a green light struck the figure down in an instant. She turned her head. It was Fleur. She followed. </p><p>It soon became clear that no one could see her. No one turned to her, tried to curse her, or called for her. And there were so many cries calling for help. She followed the younger Hermione and Fleur. She knew how violent she was, how violent she had to be, during that battle. Merciless. She had forced those memories away long ago. Folded them neatly and tucked them into a box, locked it, and stored it into a distant corner in the back of her mind. But here she was facing it all again. What she didn’t realize was how ruthless Fleur had been. The veela seemed to exist, to fight, with the sole purpose of keeping Hermione alive. She had thought she sensed her all the years ago, but convinced herself she had been imagining it. She watched as Fleur beheaded another attacker. The body remained standing for several seconds after Fleur and Hermione moved on, before finally toppling over. </p><p>Lavender again. The floral scent stopped her in her tracks. She felt a warmth in her chest. Her mind stopped buzzing. Her heart was no longer trying to tear itself from her chest. She shook her head to bring her focus back. She had to get to Fleur. </p><p>“Hermione,” a soft voice echoed through her mind. The Gryffindor looked about for whoever was calling to her, but saw no one. </p><p>“Hermione,” the voice again. It filled her with some sense of safety and comfort. She couldn’t trust it. She turned around and saw Harry and Voldemort facing off. She couldn’t stop. Her veela needed her.</p><p>“Hermione,” It was closer. Clearer. Familiar. She stepped over broken stones and bodies, made her way around pillars and spectators frozen in fear. She kept wandering, searching for her likeness. She was somehow certain that if she found her, she would find Fleur, and everything would be alright. She wasn’t scared anymore. She wasn’t panicking. Her autonomic nervous system had returned to a normal state of balance. But she still needed Fleur. She needed to be with her, see her, feel her, touch her. See that she was ok. Then everything would be alright. </p><p>Hermione finally saw her. And felt her. <em> Fleur</em>. Fleur was standing in the middle of the great hall, hair an immaculate mess, clothing torn almost fashionably, small wounds accenting her beauty. She was glorious. Her chest was heaving and her face was in deep thought. Hermione followed the line of her sight and found Fleur staring at the younger version of the Gryffindor. The veela took one step forward, then stopped. Another. Stopped. Hermione watched her turn her head to face Bill. Bill, Molly, Arthur, George, Ginny, and Ronald were crying over a body. She studied Fleur with great interest. The veela, whom Hermione had never seen as indecisive before, seemed at a stand still. Fleur looked between Hermione and Bill several times. Her body started and stopped in either direction repeatedly, until she finally walked toward the Weasleys. Hermione knew this had all happened already before, but she felt something sink in the pit of her stomach at the sight. Lavender. </p><p>“I should have gone to you.” Hermione whirled around and came face to face with her mate. Uninjured, unhurried, with no trace of having been in battle. It was <em> her </em> Fleur. She wasted not a second longer before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around the veela, burying her face in her neck and inhaling her mate’s scent. She was at peace. Fleur was safe. Hermione was safe.</p><p>“I’ve always been your Fleur, Hermione.” The brunette looked up in surprise. “I can hear your thoughts here. I am with you now in your mind, my love. You were having a flashback. You are safe. So am I. This has been over for a long time now. We are in a time of peace thanks to you and the rest of the order.” Fleur ran her hands up and down the Gryffindor’s back. </p><p>“And you,” Hermione replied. “I saw you. You protected me almost the whole battle. I would have died several times over if it wasn’t for you. Why did you...? And what was that….moment? I don’t understand.” The questions began to pour out of the brunette. “In my mind?” Hermione shifted in the blonde’s arms but did not separate from her. </p><p>“Oui, I am connected with you right now. We are in France and you were having a flashback. I came to find you and bring you back.” Fleur slid her hands to Hermione’s shoulders and gently squeezed. The brunette considered something for a moment before turning back around to the scene she was watching before. Uncertain of what prompted her to do so, Hermione raised her hand in front of her and waved it slowly across her body. The scene began to rewind. She stopped her movements once the indecisive Fleur was again at the center of the hall. </p><p>“What is happening in this moment?” Hermione asked. She felt Fleur approach from behind, slide her arms around her waist and clasp hands in front. </p><p>“It was one of my greatest mistakes.” They both watched the scene replay before them. Hermione used her silence as a way to signal for Fleur to continue. </p><p>“As I said, I have always been your Fleur. In this moment I wanted, my whole being wanted, to go to you. To choose you. This was not the first time I failed to make the right decision. You have had my heart for a very long time, Hermione Granger.” </p><p>Hermione’s heart began to beat faster at these words. She considered her next questions. Did she want to know? Yes. </p><p>“How long? How many wrong decisions?”</p><p> </p><p>Fleur turned the brunette in her arms so that they were facing each other again. She opened her heart. She opened her mind. She let her magic flow unrestrained. No holding back. </p><p>“Too long. Too many. Come with me, let’s go home and I will tell you how it all began.” </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Fleur’s consciousness returned to the library before Hermione. She was nervous when Hermione didn’t awaken right away, but the elders reassured her that it was normal, that Hermione was just recovering. The library was in disarray, but the elders were already working on putting it back together. She hoped none of the books had been damaged beyond repair. She knew that would kill Hermione to know she had injured any of the veela tomes.</p><p>Using the feather-light charm, Fleur brought Hermione to her bedroom. <em> Our bedroom, </em> her inner veela corrected her. Yes, Hermione would be sleeping in the guest room no more. She laid the brunette on their bed and drew the sheets over her. Fleur tried to sit next to her mate and wait, but she couldn’t bear to be so passive. She climbed into the bed next to Hermione and began to kiss her. She kissed her closed eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, her lips, her chin. In her heart she knew her mate was fine, but she still willed her to wake up soon. She pushed her magic into the younger witch and sent love and light and warmth until Hermione finally opened her eyes.</p><p>“Welcome back, ma moitié. Welcome back. You are home.” </p><p>Hermione opened her eyes and Fleur nearly melted. The veela leaned in and took the kiss she had been craving. When she pulled away Hermione was breathless and flushed. A part of Fleur wanted to keep kissing her witch, but she knew she wanted to give her answers first. She owed them to Hermione. She owed it to herself to speak the truth. </p><p>“October 30, 1994.” Fleur stated. Hermione’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “That was the day I made my first mistake. My first wrong choice. I arrived at Hogwarts and I sensed you. I saw you. I knew then that you were a potential mate for me, but it scared me. You were so young, and a female. And I was already under scrutiny. I wanted you, but I decided to keep my distance.” Fleur studied her mate for a reaction. She didn’t sugarcoat the truth. She would not hold back.</p><p>“Go on.” Hermione’s expression was unreadable. </p><p>“That entire year was filled with wrong choices. Every day. Every moment of every day that I did not go to you was a mistake. I watched you from a distance. I saw what an amazing student and witch you were. And even with the space, with the avoidance, you managed to capture my heart.”</p><p>“You hardly even spoke to me,” Hermione started.</p><p>“Oui, I know. I am sorry. And it killed me, Hermione.” Fleur stiffened, there was a fire in her eyes, and she took hold of Hermione’s hand in her own. “And it killed me to see you on that brute’s arm at the Yule Ball! As his second task prize!” </p><p>“Fleur he-” but the veela cut her off.</p><p>“Non. Please. I do not want to hear it. He may have been a good man, he may have been good to you, but I cannot bear to hear that.” Hermione looked as though she was about to protest. “I know it is not fair and it is unkind of me. But not now, please?” </p><p>“You’re right. It is unkind and unfair. You got married Fleur! And you are getting worked up over the fact that I had a teenage love affair.” Hermione sat up, drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.</p><p>“Affair?” Fleur asked with a pout, sitting up and settling herself next to the brunette.</p><p>“Fleur,” Hermione’s voice had a warning to it. </p><p>“My next mistake was leaving Hogwarts without you. After the way the tournament had ended, I should have taken you in my arms, kidnapped you, and brought you back here.” Fleur leaned in and kissed Hermione’s cheek. “I should have made you mine then. I could have protected you.”</p><p>“I didn’t need you protection.”</p><p>“You did! You were too young. You were all too young. And it should have been me and the clan looking over you instead of the order. We would have done more. Could have done more. But I was a fool. They would only go to war for a veela or her bonded mate. And I was a fool.” </p><p>“Fleur we made it. We survived. It worked out,” Hermione reached out and began to caress the veela’s face. </p><p>“Not everyone made it. Not everyone survived,” Fleur replied somberly. They let a silence sit between them for a few minutes.</p><p> </p><p>“Fleur, can you hold me? The way you used to, how you did the other night?” The veela could not and would not say no. She shuffled behind the brunette, wrapped her arms around and over Hermione’s arms and rested her chin on her shoulder. “Keep going,” she urged.</p><p>“Every day I saw you at the Burrow I made another wrong choice. I should not have been with Bill. Every day I saw you and chose him, and I regret that profoundly.” </p><p>Hermione wanted to argue with her. She had seen Fleur and Bill together. She had gotten jealous many times over the way they looked at each other. She married the man. She could not mean what she was saying.</p><p>“I cared for him deeply. I did love him. He was a good man. A <em> good </em> man. But he was not my mate. He did not have my heart. It was an injustice to him, to myself, to my clan, and to you, every day that I chose him.” </p><p>Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head back against Fleur. It almost hurt to hear that she could have had Fleur sooner. It hurt worse to hear the pain and the guilt in the woman’s voice.</p><p>“The decision to get married was another mistake. We did it for papers so I could stay in the country to aid in the war effort, but it was a mistake nonetheless. He was in love and I was not. I almost canceled the wedding when I saw you there. My inner veela nearly tore me apart trying to break free and get to you.” </p><p>Hermione felt before she saw feathers begin to emerge along Fleur’s hands and arms, as if the veela was trying to claw out at just the memory. The Gryffindor turned Fleur’s hands over so that they were facing upwards. She brought them to her lips and pressed kisses into the veela’s palms and the tips of her fingers. She felt the heartbeat of the blonde against her back begin to slow.</p><p>“When you were broken, after the manor, I did everything I could to keep you breathing. I realized then that I could no longer deny it. You were my mate. There was not anyone else and could not be anyone else. I would have given my life to keep you breathing. The clan begged me to take you then. To take you from Shell Cottage and back here to heal you and bond with you. But it was another choice that I made. I didn’t want you to feel you had to trade your heart for your life, like you owed me your love, and I didn’t want to hurt Bill. I didn’t want everything to have been for nothing.” </p><p>Hermione tried to grapple with the feelings bubbling up inside her. There were so many. What had happened between them at Shell Cottage was real, not one-sided. There had been something between them. Fleur was clearly ashamed, but Hermione couldn’t help but appreciate her selflessness. Fleur did save her, and she put aside her wants and needs for everybody else's wants and needs, and for the war. Needlessly so though, as Hermione knew in her heart that if Fleur had offered herself then, Hermione would have taken even more than she already had. And then what? She would have had nothing to give in return, and it wouldn’t have changed the fact that she and the boys still had their mission to carry out. </p><p>“When you and the boys left that terrible morning I nearly drowned in despair. When we found out it was Gringotts you were planning on breaking into I nearly died from grief. I think a large part of my heart did. I was convinced you would perish. When we got the news that you had made it out, that part of my heart was resurrected. As soon as the call came, I was off to Hogwarts to find you and protect you. I swore I would not make the wrong choice again.” </p><p>Hermione brought her and Fleur’s hands to her chest and clutched them close. “I sensed you. I thought it was my imagination...I thought it was just because I couldn’t shake you from my heart, my mind. But I sensed you. You were watching over me and protecting me throughout the battle, weren’t you?”</p><p>“Oui,” Fleur whispered in the brunette’s ear. </p><p>“But you made the wrong choice again,” Hermione noted.</p><p>“Oui.”</p><p>“Fred died.” Hermione processed aloud.</p><p>“Oui.”</p><p>“Fred died and you chose Bill and his family because they would need you.”</p><p>“Oui.”</p><p>“You were honorable, Fleur.”</p><p>“Non, I was a coward.”</p><p>“You were honorable. You were. You are. And you made a choice. We all made sacrifices and choices we regret.”</p><p>“Hermione what I did, all the things I did and did not do, the things I could have done, I-”</p><p>“What about now, Fleur?” Hermione didn’t want to hear about lost time anymore. She didn’t want to think about Fleur and Bill’s marriage. She didn’t want any of that. She wanted to know about now. “What do you choose now?”</p><p>The two separated enough to turn their heads and face each other. Fleur released one hand and brought it to Hermione’s visage. She traced fingers over cheekbones, down to the corners of Hermione’s mouth, over soft lips, before gently cupping the brunette’s chin.</p><p>“I made a promise the other night while you were sleeping. I mean to follow through on it. No more wrong choices. There is only one path forward for me from here. I am yours, Hermione Granger. I will watch over you, I will protect you, I will care for you, I will offer you support in every endeavor I can. I will not turn away anymore. And if you find it in your heart that you want more, if you can forgive me my trespasses, you already have my heart. If you decide to give me a chance to earn yours, I would treasure it and never let it go.”</p><p>Hermione could hear her heartbeat in her ears again, feel each beat in every pulse point of her body. Her eyes landed on Fleur’s lips. </p><p>"You'll put this bond, no matter what direction it takes, you’ll put it first?"</p><p>"Oui."</p><p>"You won't run away?"</p><p>"Non."</p><p>"Do you promise?</p><p>"Je promets."</p><p>"Can you kiss me now?"</p><p>Fleur tilted her head down and gently pulled Hermione’s mouth toward hers. Lips touched lightly. Fleur held Hermione’s chin and kept her witch in place as she turned her head slightly from side to side, grazing her lips against her mate's. Hermione did not resist. Fleur let go then used both hands to shift and turn the witch in her arms enough so she could lower her down onto the bed. Her lips followed Hermione’s and she laid her body on top of the Gryffindor’s. </p><p>"Oui."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For anyone who is suffering from PTSD or other health challenges including possible crisis, the resources below may be of help:</p><p>Beaumont Common Ground Online Crisis Chat, text, and phone: https://commongroundhelps.org/ </p><p>Worldwide Suicide Prevention Online Chat listings: https://www.suicidestop.com/suicide_prevention_chat_online.html</p><p>USA: Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) Helpline referral service: 18006624357. This is open 24/7/365, and provides referrals for help in your area</p><p>USA: VA: 1-800-273-8255 if you need help right away. Or crisis chat: https://www.veteranscrisisline.net/get-help/chat</p><p>USA: in a crisis, text 'NAMI' to 741741</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p>Please don't hesitate to leave constructive criticism. I'm trying to grow as an author and I've never written scenes like this. It was a struggle. Don’t be shy to let me know what worked and what didn't work. What you liked and what you didn't.<br/>Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Arrive, Like the Lily, At Will</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from "Enigma with Flower," Pablo Neruda</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fleur took her time kissing her mate. Whereas their first was full of passion and hunger, this one was different. She moved her lips her tongue her mouth with intention; with purpose. She kissed Hermione as if just the right weight and press of lips could make the brunette whole again. Kissed her as if with the right angle and depth she could pour herself into the Gryffindor to fill all the dark and empty places in her heart and mind with light. She nibbled and sucked on her lips as if to pull apart the vestiges of the demons haunting her mate. Yes, Fleur would take her time to do her part to put her witch back together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a sense, she could help to heal Hermione this way. They were mates and she was a Veela. Physical intimacy was a way to share their essence and magic, a way to strengthen. In all actuality, since they were in the bonding process, they should have been engaging in physical intimacy like mad since their first night together. It would help Hermione with the ailments she was having. Things had just been so complicated, and Hermione had been such a gentlewoman and showed such restraint when abstaining from sex with Fleur. Fleur herself wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sex with Hermione, even when it was Fleur’s inner Veela at the forefront, was phenomenal. The chemistry they had, the way her mate filled her, and the way Hermione had made Fleur peak multiple times that first night, it was impossible for Fleur not to think about it. She had replayed that night in her mind several times over since. No one had ever made her come more than once in a night, and it was never guaranteed she would. It was not easy to please or satiate a Veela. But Hermione…And the following night when she had taken Hermione with her mouth. The responses she elicited from the Gryffindor alone were enough to spark desire in her core. Fleur felt a heat start to build inside as she thought about Hermione's talents. How many more times, how many more ways, would the Gryffindor make Fleur come undone once she had trained her mate to keep up with her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione,” Fleur practically purred out. She did not mean to. Apparently she was more worked up than she realized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fleur,” Hermione sighed, before threading her fingers into blonde hair and sliding her tongue deep into the Veela’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, merde. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wanted to talk to her mate about everything that had just happened, then talk about the possibility of moving forward together physically. But the way Hermione had turned up the heat in their kiss and was pulling her closer and closer, Fleur wasn’t sure how to get a word in about it. There was a knock at the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank goodness.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ladies, I just wanted to check in. Is everything alright?” a voice called through the door. It was her mother. Hermione and Fleur stilled their movements, locked eyes, and quickly separated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oui, maman.” Fleur replied, sitting up and smoothing her hair down. When she looked over to Hermione, the brunette had already jumped from the bed to stand and was patting down some of the wrinkles in her shirt. They had separated just in time, as Apolline took that as a cue to enter the room and strode in with Veronique and Giselle behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, ma fille, we were so worried about you,” Apolline started immediately. She crossed the room briskly and enveloped the young witch in a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oui, we wanted to apologize for the use of our thrall, but you had to be subdued. We were worried you were going to hurt yourself.” Giselle followed. She leaned in and kissed both of Hermione’s cheeks, before grasping both of the brunette’s shoulders and squeezing in apology. She stepped aside so that the third woman could approach</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we thought you might want an explanation for what was going on. That must have been a very shocking scene for you to witness. Bonjour, I am Veronique, I head most of our magical training regimens for new mates,” the Veela introduced herself. She was an intimidating figure. She was taller than anyone in the room and held a very stoic demeanor. Her long auburn hair was straight, almost severely so. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes were soft as she took Hermione in and leaned in to kiss both cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we get comfortable?” Apolline suggested as she gestured to a buckwheat colored chaise lounger against the far wall of the room. She waved her arms and wordlessly summoned three more chairs for her and the Elders to sit. The woman walked and settled in silence. Fleur situated herself close to Hermione on the chaise, but left enough room between them in case Hermione needed some space. All eyes were on Hermione. Fleur felt her shrinking under their gazes. She knew the young witch was loathe to be pitied or at the center of attention for a flashback. She would support and encourage Hermione through the conversation, as she knew the brunette most likely had numerous questions burning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry,” Hermione stammered out. “I thought I had those under control. That hasn’t happened, a flashback like that, it hasn’t happened in awhile. I don’t even know why it happened. Is everyone ok? Did I hurt anyone? Did I damage anything? Oh, Merlin. The library…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no, hush, Hermione. Everyone is ok; things can be fixed.” Fleur scooted over to close the space between them and looped an arm around the distraught witch’s waist, trying to comfort her. It appeared to have the intended effect as Hermione’s body began to relax and lean slightly into the blonde. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The library is being repaired as we speak. It is not a concern. And the books will be fine. Several were damaged but not irreparably so. We have passed them on to one of our expert book binders. They will be put back together and magical protections will be recast,” Giselle reported.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened, Hermione?” Apolline again. “Can you think back to how this started? Before you came into the library, before you came down the hallway, where were you coming from? What did you feel? What happened right before you felt that way? Take your time,” she probed with patient concern. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older women were watching her. Hermione felt overwhelmed. What did they think of her? Would they think she was unwell? Unstable? What did Fleur think of her? Someone feeble to protect? Was that what all the promises were based on? Fleur pitying her? She was having trouble keeping her breathing even. She clenched her eyes tight, trying to shut out the panic slowly creeping in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there was that comforting scent again. Lavender. She felt an accompanying warmth run over her shoulders and down her spine. Fleur’s arms gently squeeze around her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She rested her palms on her thighs and pressed down firmly to ground herself. She kept her eyes closed as she began to recount how it all began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was in the study. I wasn’t feeling well. My body was aching, itching, and I was so tired.” Hermione felt Fleur stiffen beside her before relaxing and beginning to caress her arms. “I had some chocolate and I was trying to rest. And then, and then...I don’t know. I can’t do this. I don’t know what happened.” She felt utterly pathetic. Weak. Embarrassed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me, cherie. Look at me.” Fleur’s voice. Hermione wanted to look, but she couldn’t face the blonde. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe this is too much for her. We can do this another time,” Giselle suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Non. She is able. She is strong enough,” Fleur’s voice was resolute. “Hermione, just look at me and focus on me. It is just you and me, and you are safe. I promise.” She felt a soft, cool hand on her cheek guiding her to face Fluer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione took a steadying breath before shifting in the Veela’s arms. When she opened her eyes she was looking at her mate. Fleur was nodding her head, encouraging her. There was no trace of pity. No disappointment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was laying on the sofa. And then I felt it. Anxiety. Fear. Danger. No, first I felt pain.” Hermione corrected herself as she thought back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pain? What kind? The aches?” Fleur asked to clarify. She was frowning with furrowed brows in concern</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the aches, it was different. It was sharp and intense. In my abdomen.” Hermione’s hands dropped to her stomach and began to palpate, checking for injury. She looked back up to the blonde. “And then I knew. Something in me told me you were in danger. That’s when I ran to the library.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the bond.” Giselle mused. The other Veela women nodded in understanding. “We should have warned you, Hermione. This was a grave mistake on our part, please forgive us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Hermione returned her attention to the elders. It was Veronqiue who responded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We started training Fleur today. You will need to be trained too. But we started with her. Now that you both have completed first two steps of the bonding process, your magic and your instincts will begin to increase in power and sensitivity. It is imperative that you train so that you can learn to hone and control them. That was what we were doing with Fleur this morning. Fleur wanted to train and be tested via combat to….expend some extra energy she has pent up. She was struck in the abdomen by a particularly nasty hex, and due to your connection-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I felt it.” Hermione looked to Fleur, worried, and reached out her hands to tenderly assess her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am ok, cherie. I am.” Fleur took Hermione’s hands in her own and squeezed them reassuringly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, maybe that’s what started it. Fleur was in danger. It must have ignited my fight-or-flight response.” Hermione was almost talking to herself. Her eyes wandered about the room, unfocused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t been so scared since the war. People thought she was fearless. They said so all the time; people in passing, the papers, her colleagues and friends. But that wasn’t true. After the war she was given accolades, awards and was recognized for her fearlessness. But the fact was that throughout the war she was in a constant state of terror. Terror for Harry, for Ron, for her parents, for herself, for her classmates, for members of the Order. At any moment anyone could be hurt, captured, tortured, killed. Anyone could be gone forever in an instant. And this morning that old familiar fear had hit her hard. But it was more. If it was possible, she felt more terrified this morning at the idea of something happening to Fleur, of Fleur being gone forever, than she had been scared for her own life during the war. She wrapped her arms around herself as she continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or, maybe it was when I saw Fleur through the door. She looked hurt and I thought she was being attacked. Or when that elder raised her wand at me. Did she raise her wand at me? Or maybe it was just her. She looked like...she looked like...when the elder came and then she wouldn’t let me through to Fleur- I’m sorry, I forget her name. Is she ok?” Words were tumbling out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she was making sense. She couldn’t pinpoint when reality had ended and when the flashback had begun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, that was Andrea. She is fine. She was quite impressed with you. She did not expect you to be so adept and powerful in a duel,” Apolline supplied as she leaned back in her chair with an amused smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Serves her right to be tossed on her ass then. How could she underestimate my mate? Everyone knows she is a powerful and skilled witch. A war hero! She is Hermione Granger!” Fleur’s chest was puffed out and she raised her fist for emphasis. It was a strange moment to take in for Hermione: Fleur Delacour bragging about her and defending her honor as if they were together. Well, Hermione supposed they were together now, in whatever sense that meant. It was an endearing sight to see. She began to feel a little less overwhelmed and felt a smile start to tug at the corner of her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy now, Fleur. No one is questioning your mate’s abilities. Especially not after today,” Apolline chuckled. “But I think it would be best to let Giselle lead Hermione through some psycho-emotional exercises moving forward. In addition to the partner practice.” She turned to Giselle to let her take over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, you have some work to be done. You have a wounded mind. It is not uncommon for people who have been through war. You will let us and Fleur work with you to heal,” Giselle said with a tone that made it clear it was not up for debate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been to therapists in the muggle world. I have come a long way. I know I’m not perfect, that I’m not healed. I might never be,” Hermione said, turning from Giselle to Fleur. She hoped Fleur wouldn’t see her as damaged goods, but she wanted to be honest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are not looking for perfection or for you to be ‘cured.’ Instead we will work with you to become more whole. To become self-aware enough to identify triggers, to develop ways to cope, to strengthen your ability to ground yourself and master your psyche. This, in addition to the training you will receive for the final step of the bonding process, will not be easy,” Giselle explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will make a schedule for you,” Veronique stated. “You will start Monday.” The three elder Veelas looked between each other before nodding and then standing from their seats in preparation to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Monday? Why wait until Monday?” Hermione asked,  eyebrows quirked in confusion. They made the training out to be dire, why would they hold off until after the weekend? It was only Wednesday. Ever the eager student, Hermione was prepared to get started right away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dear daughter has a few things she needs to discuss with you. You two have some catching up and connecting to do before you begin the more rigorous training we will be putting you through come Monday. You will continue your partner practice, and we will set aside time to meet with you, Hermione, to get you prepared for next week.” Apolline, Veronique and Giselle walked to the door to leave the mates alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and Hermione,” Apolline turned when she got to the door. “I will be contacting the British Ministry on your behalf. I believe a sabbatical is in order. Don’t argue. Fleur, please be straightforward. Hermione, don’t let her hold back.” And with that, the three women were gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two witches sat next to each other in silence for a few moments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she mean by-”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I think we should have lunch! Teeny!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elf popped into the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will be taking our lunch in here today. Please also bring us a bottle or wine. Make that two.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione was propped up against a large arrangement of pillows Fleur had set up for her against the arm of the sofa and under her knees. The Veela herself was sitting on a chair next to Hermione. She was running her hands through Hermione’s hair in between feeding her from an assortment of fruits, nuts, meats and cheeses and sips of wine. She knew Fleur was biding her time, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care. Being waited on and treated so tenderly by Fleur was positively heavenly, and she felt better than she had in days. Fleur had asked her if she was willing or able to talk about her flashbacks, but Hermione was not. She wanted some time to emotionally recuperate before she thought about it again. In the past she had usually taken a self-care day after an episode. When she told this to Fleur the Veela immediately set about pampering her. She was grateful that Fleur didn’t push her to share yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione,” Fleur said gently as she lowered her head and nuzzled into her mate’s neck. The brunette hummed in response. “I think I am ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione coughed on the grape in her mouth when she felt Fleur’s hand slide up her thigh and cup her through her pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Gasped Hermione. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it is time we start to move forward physically.” Fleur concluded her statement with a nip on Hermione’s mate mark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s body was already responding. A very unHermione-esque part of her was pushing her on to ravage the woman beside her and ask questions later, but Hermione wrestled that urge down. She took hold of Fleur’s hand and pushed it away from her crotch as she sat up and swung her legs to the floor, causing pillows to fall to the ground as she created a respectable distance between her and the blonde. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, wait. Where did this come from? And weren’t we supposed to be talking about something? What was your mother referring to? Are you really ready? Don’t answer that. Tell me what’s going on.” She reached for one of the fallen pillows and brought it to her lap, effectively blocking any attempt Fleur might make at another move, as well as hiding her level of arousal. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Be straightforward. Don’t hold back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur huffed, clearly displeased at the stubbornness of her mate. She sat up primly and adjusted her clothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Straightforward,” the Veela repeated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open and honest,” Hermione replied. Fleur smirked, shook her head, and decided to concede. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A natural part of the bonding process is being physically intimate with your mate. Being affectionate. Making love. And often. Zealously.” Fleur’s eyes were focused on Hermione as the younger witch took a dry swallow. “We are moving forward in a bit of an unorthodox way by abstaining from sex and other physical forms of care; from other displays of affection. I know you have been craving me and my touch, because I have been craving the same from you. It helps with the bonding. It would also help with the pain and discomfort you are going through. You have been feeling better over the course of lunch, non?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I suppose. But-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is because we have been touching almost constantly. I was laying on you and kissing you. Then I had you in my arms. Then I was caressing you and feeding you from my hands.” Fleur shifted from her chair to the sofa next to Hermione. “It is natural and necessary for us to need each other this way.” She placed one hand on the back of the lounger as she leaned closer to the brunette, then chastely laid the other hand on Hermione’s knee. She wanted to be respectful, but also to show her earnesty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the pain, the itching, the discomfort, that is because we haven’t been…” Hermione gestured between the two of them. Fleur picked up a strawberry and brought it to her own mouth for a bite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Non, but being physical would help those symptoms.” Fleur brought the other half of the strawberry to Hermione’s lips to feed her the rest of it. “Those symptoms are from your body changing to accommodate the bond. The bond changes us, transforms us. You are not Veela, so you feel it more acutely. My body was made for this so I am not suffering in the same way that you are.” Fleur plucked another strawberry from the charcuterie board.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you are? Suffering, I mean?” Hermione’s words were faint. Her eyes were transfixed on Fleur’s mouth as it closed around half of the strawberry to take a bite. Juice dribbled over her lip. The blonde chased it with her tongue. Hermione’s breathing hitched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oui,” Fleur replied, swallowing and then holding the other half of the strawberry out to Hermione’s lips. Hermione leaned her head forward to take the fruit, but the Veela pulled it away at the last moment and leaned into her mate’s waiting mouth with her own. “I am suffering.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food was quickly forgotten as Hermione consumed strawberry-sweet lips. She groaned into the kiss as a fire-hot heat spread through her body. Before she could deepen it, Fleur pulled away. The younger witch whimpered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need each other, ma lionne. We need this. But I need you to know that I also </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> this. I want you. Can you feel it?” Fleur’s voice was breathless and she squeezed Hermione’s knee in a show of restraint. Hermione had put off their physicality until she knew Fleur, all of her, wanted to move forward. Fleur was telling her now that this was indeed what she wanted. The brunette’s mouth still hung agape from their kiss; her chest was rapidly rising and falling. Hermione brought her gaze back to Fleur’s eyes as she tried to pull herself together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel it. I do.” She gulped and composed herself. “Just tell me what you are ready for. There is no rush. We can take our time. As you said, even just what we have done so far today has me feeling better. I don’t want you pushing yourself beyond what you are truly ready to give.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are a gentlewoman, you know that?” Fleur leaned forward and kissed Hermione’s temple. The younger witch felt a blush warm across her cheeks. Of all the things to make her turn pink, that was it? “Let’s just move slowly and do what feels right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, that sounds smart. We will just keep communicating.” Hermione clenched the pillow tightly between her hands and willed her member to calm down.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur’s eyes dropped to the movement and then flitted back up to Hermione’s visage. Hermione’s heart sped up as she watched sky blue eyes turn to dark sapphire. It beat harder harder, faster faster as she felt Fleur’s hands lift from her knee and cover one of her hands on the pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can help you with that particular ache. I would like to.” Fleur’s voice was low. It sent sparks through Hermione’s body to hear her like this while untransformed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to. I can-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I am not communicating clearly enough,” Fleur interrupted. She let go of Hermione’s hand and instead grabbed the pillow. She pushed it gently down into the Gryffindor’s lap further, creating a light but delightful friction, before slowly pulling the pillow away. “Stop me now if this is something you are not ready for; if this is something you do not want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s erection hardened further. She definitely wanted this. Her mouth went dry. She managed to nod, and Fleur resumed. Hermione’s head was swimming as the Veela fluidly lowered herself to the floor and between her legs. The pillow was tossed and eager hands were working at the fastenings of her pants. Whatever was going to happen, whatever Fleur was willing to give her, she was certain it would be perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur was nearly perfect herself. Beyond her gorgeous eyes, beyond her seductive mouth, beyond her sinful body and hypnotizing thrall, Fleur was an enchanting being. She captivated Hermione in ways that she used to believe only a book on a novel subject could. She sent Hermione’s brain into motion, working harder to unravel the enigma of Fleur Delacour than Hermione had ever worked to solve any equation or riddle. Their chemistry, just the nearness of the woman, exploded visceral and carnal feelings throughout her body in ways that no romantic book could ever do justice. She could hardly fathom how she had come to the role she had found herself in Fleur’s life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deft hands worked pants over hips and down around Hermione’s ankles; gently pressed knees away from each other to further open and expose Hermione to the woman in front of her. She gripped the edges of the sofa vice-like at the image before her: Fleur, on her knees below her, with a hunger on her face and an intense focus leveled on the tent of Hermione’s boxer briefs. Fleur licked her lips and Hermione briefly wondered if they still tasted like strawberries. She bent forward and cupped the Veela’s face in her hands. She noted the small look of surprise on her face before she lowered her mouth to taste pink lips. She shamelessly dragged her tongue across them before taking the bottom lip between her own and sucking it harshly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Still sweet. Uniquely Fleur</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s tongue faltered clumsily when she felt Fleur’s hands glide up her thighs and encircle her growing bulge. She fell back, eyes tightly closed, with a grunt as Fleur rubbed and grasped at her member through cloth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I come before she pulls it out, I swear…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fleur withdrew her hands and planted them on Hermione’s thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me, Hermione.” The brunette’s eyes snapped open and found focus. “I want you to watch me.” Hermione nodded dumbly. “Tell me what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want...I want you to please me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” Fleur demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“However you see fit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bon. What else do you want?” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell her you want everything. Take her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hermione was momentarily shaken by her thoughts. She most certainly would not ask for more. But, the way Fleur was looking at her, with that smirk, maybe there was something more she could ask for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your shirt off.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She hadn’t meant to make that sound like a command. Before she could apologize, Fleur let out a growl and her lips curled into a positively lustful smile. She reached down to grab the bottom of her shirt when Hermione intervened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Let me do it.” Hermione wasn’t sure where this more assertive side was coming from. She wanted to be gentle, to be sweet, but there was a desperate desire and hunger in her. The words just came out. She felt her magic swelling and reaching out for Fleur as she extended her hands to grasp the shirt. She wondered if Fleur could feel the burn from her stare at every exposed bit of skin that was revealed as she peeled the garment off. It ended up on the floor somewhere out of sight. Her mouth was salivating. Perhaps Fleur could feel the heat of her stare, as the Veela was purring and preening under Hermione’s gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I?” Hermione asked. She lifted up her hand and reached forward, stopping short of touching the blonde's shoulders. The skin looked so smoothe. Fleur cocked her head slightly before nodding her consent. Hermione let her fingertips graze over soft skin. She thought back to the last time she touched the Veela this way when her feathers were covering the surface she was touching now. Those were soft and beautiful, just as Fleur was now, only different. She reached forward with her other hand and mirrored the first’s actions, slid fingers up the sides of neck, gently tugged at earlobes, before letting them glide down again and pulling Fleur in for another kiss. She took her time. There was no rush. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We are mates</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready?” Fleur asked, pulling away and biting her bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready.” It was all Hermione could manage out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delicate hands worked around the hem of her undergarments and tugged them down. Hermione lifted off of the couch enough to allow the woman to continue pulling down the cloth. Down to her ankles. Further exposed. Very turned on. The Veela reached forward with both hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s breathing became quite uneven as Fleur assessed her thoroughly. Hands circled around her cock, lightly grasping, moving and grasping again. Fleur cupped her with one hand and rounded her palm over the head of her member. Hermione groaned and Fleur leaned in. Her mouth hovered over the tip of Hermione’s cock. Eyes met. Hot breath teased Hermione in an almost excruciating way. Fleur kissed the tip gently before spitting on the head and sitting back. She let her hands go to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione was almost disappointed when Fleur backed her warm mouth away, but she was quickly overcome with pleasure as hands began a rhythm. Hermione could only lean back, watch, and try not to come undone too soon. Fingers and thumbs interlocked around her shaft and pumped up and down, occasionally drawing high enough to caress over the head and gather the precum forming. When Hermione started to moan Fleur adjusted her thumbs to stimulate the underside of her cock’s head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was going to be another embarrassingly early peak. She began to rock her hips in time with Fleur’s movements and when she thought she was going to come, Fleur took her hands away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Not yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur sat up on her knees, grabbed Hermione by the back of the neck and pulled her in. The kiss was rough and while Fleur was smirking, Hermione was panting. She slipped her hand around the Veela’s body, admiring the feel of her skin. She tried to pull Fleur closer to her, to create friction, make more contact, but Fleur resisted and chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patience,” was all she said before retracting Hermione’s hand from her back, taking hold of the other, and guiding them to her breasts. Hermione accepted the exchange. She palmed the bra-clad breasts, moving her hands to tease nipples through fabric. If Fleur could be a tease, then she could too. Without warning Hermione lunged forward, bit Fleur’s mark, and pinched the hardening buds beneath her hands. The high pitched whine was reward enough for Hermione to repeat the action again, this time slipping her fingers under Fleur’s bra. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s mind and body were buzzing. She was touching, </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimately</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Fleur Delacour. This was real. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this Aphrodite would be letting Hermione Granger, awkward bookworm, fondle her breasts. If only her teen-aged self could see her now. A dream come true. Fleur’s skin was perfect. Perfectly soft, perfectly smooth, smelled of something indescribably wonderful, and tasted unique and ineffable. But then she was left empty handed and mouth gaping in disappointment as Fleur backed away again. Hands resumed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time her hands were stacked on top of each other, working more of Hermione’s length. They alternated between firm and soft as the blonde twisted them around the shaft. Hermione couldn’t be bothered to hold back her moans and the jutting of her hips. Fleur was dextrous, she was intuitive, and moved and caressed in determination. Hermione had never had hands make her feel this way. She was close. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So close. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Fleur pulled away again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a cruel woman,” Hermione snarled out. Fleur only giggled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised up on her knees to press fingers to the underside of Hermione’s jaw and tilt her head back, exposing her throat. She then settled her hands on Hermione’s shoulders and began to languidly lick, and kiss and lightly nip at the vulnerable expanse of skin. Hermione’s hands gripped firmly at Fleur’s ribs before the veela pulled away. Again. And so it went. Fleur would attend to Hermione’s cock and stop just as the brunette was about to come, sometimes firmly grasping the base of her shaft to hold her off. Then she would find some part of Hermione’s neck to worship, or her lips, or let Hermione devour her exposed flesh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Feur.” Hermione’s legs were shaking, she was sweating, and her breathing was erratic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what, ma moitié?” She feigned an innocent face and pout, but the devilish glint in her eyes gave her away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>torturing me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hermione was practically sobbing and she ran fingers through her own mussed up hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we were working on communication,” Fleur said slyly. Her head was resting on Hermione’s thigh, breath hot against Hermione’s cock, and her hands rested on the sofa cushions on either side of the brunette. “If you want something, if you are ready for something, you have to let me know.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evil. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was an evil woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready for you to finish me.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You want me to?”</span><br/>
<span>"I need you to.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s breath stilled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A current of electricity shot down from her chest to her stomach to her throbbing cock. She watched as Fleur pursed her lips, attempting to hold back a smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cruel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Before she could talk herself out of it, the words burst forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want your mouth. Finish me with that smart mouth of yours.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin</span>
  </em>
  <span>, since when did she start speaking this way? But her aggressive attitude was rewarded again as Fleur purred and straightened up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One hand cupped her, the other wrapped around her shaft and began to pump, and before she could prepare herself, Fleur dragged a flat tongue on the underside of the head of Hermione’s dick and swirled it around the tip. Again. Again. It was not enough, and it was too much, and Hermione was overwhelmed, and she needed more, but it was too much, and her hips began to rock as she tried to press her tip just a bit further to make it into the blonde’s mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not going to make it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her groans were picking up, they were almost feral. Fleur responded in kind, with moans that were like music to Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercifully, Fleur finally let Hermione’s cock past her lips, over her tongue and to the back of her mouth. Hermione’s hands shot forward to tangle in tresses, holding Fleur in place as she growled her name and released completely. Her body began to shake and Fleur continued to manually pump the part of her shaft that wasn’t fully immersed in her mouth. Hermione tried to pull away but Fleur kept her there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fleur! Fleur! <em>FleurFleurFleurFleur</em>” Hermione’s body was shaking as she was pleading for the blonde to relinquish. It turns out there was a thing as too much pleasure. Fleur slowed her hands, slackened her jaw, and finally slowly withdrew from the brunette. Hermione was gasping and aftershocks of her orgasm were running through her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come up here, you goddess. You devilish woman.” Hermione pulled Fleur onto her lap, wrapped her arms around her tight, and buried her face in her breasts. “Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur helped her come down by kissing her forehead and squeezing her shoulders. When Hermione stopped shaking she shifted so the blonde slid off her lap and onto the sofa, back against the arm. Her mouth began to bite and she reached for the buttons of the Veela’s pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, what do you think you are doing?” Fleur asked with a raised eyebrow. Hermione froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I just...I’m sorry I should have asked. I just wanted to taste you like how you’ve tasted me. If you’re ready, that is.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m an asshole</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hermione berated herself for not checking in with Fleur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur hummed to herself and looked up as if in contemplation. When her eyes met back with Hermione’s, they were black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, you have to earn that first.” White feathers began to emerge across fine cheekbones and through blonde hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Earn that how?” Hermione’s eyes opened in wonder as she watched the transformation take place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s play a game, ma lionne.” The Veela sat up, effectively pushing Hermione back. Plumage erupted across her shoulders and down her arms. She bent down and grabbed her shirt from the floor. Hermione stayed still as Fleur moved closer, lips to the shell of her ears. Whispered words and coquettish giggle ticking her before the Veela stood and bolted to the door. It took Hermione a few seconds to process what she had said. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Catch me if you can.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey everyone… this just in… In honor of everyone’s favorite magical useless lesbians, Fleurmione Week 2020 is coming! Starts September 3 and is seven days of Fleurmione. If you’re itching to contribute, please be sure to use #FleurmioneWeek2020<br/>https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fleurmioneweek</p><p>Feedback and critique, good and not-so-good, always welcome!</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;<br/>For anyone who is suffering from PTSD or other health challenges including possible crisis, the resources below may be of help:</p><p>Beaumont Common Ground Online Crisis Chat, text, and phone: https://commongroundhelps.org/ </p><p>Worldwide Suicide Prevention Online Chat listings: https://www.suicidestop.com/suicide_prevention_chat_online.html</p><p>USA: Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) Helpline referral service: 18006624357. This is open 24/7/365, and provides referrals for help in your area</p><p>USA: VA: 1-800-273-8255 if you need help right away. Or crisis chat: https://www.veteranscrisisline.net/get-help/chat</p><p>USA: in a crisis, text 'NAMI' to 741741</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. To Catch a Veela</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>‘Take it easy on her, she has no idea what she’s up against, tracking down a Veela.’ </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to give.<br/>Big thanks to you all for being patient with me. Still building my endurance as a writer, still juggling real world responsibilities and writing this.<br/>Big thanks to Reyahtess for....consultation services.<br/>Thanks to lostparkmih for being an awesome cheerleader and brainstormer!<br/>Big thanks to my beta, who at their request remains anonymous. But thank you, you know who you are.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Veela chuckled to herself as she heard stumbling in the room behind her. No doubt Hermione tripping over herself, forgetting that her pants were around her ankles. Fleur rolled her eyes. Her mate would become more graceful in time, surely. The Veela quickly ran to the bottom of the winding grand staircase. She looked up to see Hermione exit the room and look around before brown eyes landed on her. She saw Hermione mirror her smirk. </p><p><em> ‘Good, she is up for the challenge.</em>’</p><p><em> ‘Take it easy on her, she has no idea what she’s up against, tracking down a Veela</em>.’ </p><p>The Veela watched intently as Hermione cautiously began to descend the stairs, taking careful steps and letting her hand glide lightly down the banister. The blonde lifted up the shirt she had in her hand on display for the witch, before placing atop the newel post and backing away. Hermione took a step, and the Veela took a step back. Hermione paused, and the Veela paused. Hermione resumed, and the Veela backed herself further down the hallway. </p><p>When Hermione reached the bottom step she looked curiously at the partially transformed Veela. The blonde nodded and directed her gaze to the shirt. Hermione crooked her head, then grabbed the shirt. She stood there staring at the Veela, seemingly waiting for direction. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘She does not understand.’ </em>
</p><p><em> ‘</em><em>Give her a moment. She will know what to do</em>.’</p><p> </p><p>Fleur watched through the Veela’s eyes, gaze locked with Hermione’s. They could see the cogs turning in her head, watched her eyes narrow. She looked at the shirt, then back to the Veela. They nodded, then waited. Hermione took a step forward. </p><p>“Non,” the Veela let out. Fleur pushed herself to the forefront and continued. “Trust your instinct, ma moitie,” her voice betraying the excitement she felt from the delicate dance they were engaging in. Fleur let the words hang in the air as she returned to the back of the Veela’s mind. Together they awaited their mate’s next move.</p><p>Hermione froze. Fleur urged the Veela to give the Gryffindor at least a small sign. It obliged. Hermione raised the shirt up, and the Veela nodded. The brunette looked at the shirt and back again. The Veela raised her eyebrow. Fleur pushed herself forward. </p><p>“Just. Trust your instinct.” She repeated, then allowed the Veela to resume control. </p><p>Hermione raised her eyebrow, glanced at the article in her hand, and slowly brought it to her face. The Veela’s eyes tracked her movement, and nodded in approval as Hermione breathed the shirt in. The witch’s eyes fluttered closed and the Veela could hear a small growl. That pleased her. Hermione seemed to have shocked herself, jerking her head back, but she brought the garment back to her face and sniffed it again. Her head snapped up and her gaze found Fleur. Her eyes were focused and narrow, almost predatory. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘There it is.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Veela dropped one foot backwards, turned her body slightly before winking, and then ran down the hall. She heard Hermione’s feet in hot pursuit. </p><p>Down the winding hallways, a left and then another. Footsteps echoed behind her and the Veela’s heart was pounding in excitement. Fleur had to agree; this was thrilling. They continued down another hall lit up by natural light, concluding with a glass door to the back gardens. The Veela slowed enough to stop and open the door before casting a glance behind her. Hermione rounded the corner and laughed when she saw the white-feathered woman. </p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Give her a chance to catch up</em>.’</p><p><em> ‘You underestimate our mate, she will be fine</em>.’</p><p> </p><p>And out they sprinted. Out the door, down the dirt garden path, past the roses and the daisies, and past the orchid daze. The Veela slowed occasionally when their distance became too great and the tug at her heart and bones began to ache. Fleur pushed her way to the surface to turn the Veela around to check on Hermione. Her witch was breathing hard, but the look of determination on her face assuaged Fleur’s concern. </p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Just a little further</em>.’</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione didn’t know what Fleur had planned. She observed with curiosity as Fleur’s feathers seemed to disappear and reappear at different moments; eyes changed from black to blue and back again. When she saw the blonde head in the direction of the forest near the edge of the property, she became more intrigued. What was the Veela plotting? She was surprised she was not more tired. Not that she was out of shape, but she hadn’t run like this or trained in quite some time, but being near Fleur would do that to her. Being with Fleur opened her more to herself; elicited responses, desires and clarity that she had never felt before. And something more. There was a part of her Fleur seemed to have access to that she couldn’t put her finger on. Her magic thrummed and pulsed and reached out desperately. She would chase Fleur to the end of the Earth if the Veela so challenged. Hermione Granger would never back down. She was itching for what she might be rewarded with if she caught up to the Veela. When she caught up with her. </p><p>Fleur turned to the brunette when she reached the treeline. She smiled that mischievous smile, beckoned Hermione with her finger, blew a kiss, and then disappeared into the woods. <em> Cheeky. </em> When Hermione reached the trees she steadied herself and took a breath. This was not necessarily about speed anymore. Now it was about wit, observation, tracking, and outsmarting the Veela so she could capture her. The idea of it all so excited Hermione. She felt a rush of adrenaline. She stepped in.</p><p>The forest was gorgeous. It was luscious it was thick it was alive. There were several paths before her. One to the right, one straight ahead, and one to the left. She heard rustling and giggles to her right. Off she went in that direction. </p><p>She saw glimpses of blonde hair and white feathers. She followed, they disappeared. She heard giggling and followed, only to find herself in a dead end of congested trees, brush and rock. Before she could turn around, hands grabbed her by her waist and she felt a quick bite to her neck. As quick as the Veela came, she was gone, and Hermione resumed her hunt. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>The Veela was enjoying this immensely; being pursued by her mate. Her instincts were kicking in, her excitement was building. She couldn’t help but tease the brunette by sneaking up behind her and getting a quick taste. She knew it would spur Hermione on. Fleur, observing in the background, was less than amused, but nonetheless exhilarated to see how her mate would perform; for her mate to earn her body. The Veela purred in assent and plucked out one of her feathers. She worked it under some splintered tree bark, then moved in the opposite direction. </p><p> </p><p><em> ‘You are cruel</em>.’</p><p>
  <em> ‘You were cruel not that long ago.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘That was a good cruel.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Do you not trust in our mate’s abilities?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Touché. I do, but this is-’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Cruel?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Yes.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘You are too soft with her.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They watched from behind a great oak. Hermione had slowed and was looking about. She stayed on the path for a time and then veered off, stepping over fallen branches and tentatively pushing through thickets. Her head tilted this way and that, as if trying to listen for clues. She made her way into a clearing, following the rustling sound of the Veela but not quite able to pinpoint the exact direction or location. She huffed out in frustration. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she reached toward her wand. </p><p>“Non!” The Veela’s voice was firm as she stepped out from behind the tree across the meadow from the huntress. “"Non de baguette magique. It must be you! Put that away.”</p><p>Hermione tensed and cautiously pulled her hand back from her wand as she looked curiously at the Veela. Fleur pushed her way to the forefront. Feathers began to recede, blue eyes emerged to meet brown. Fleur gave her mate a playful smile. </p><p>“You are doing so well,” the blonde said reassuringly. “Trust yourself as you did before. Look. Listen. Smell. Taste. Feel me. You do not need your wand to find me. Tune into your instincts.”</p><p>She smiled before allowing black eyes and white feathers to return. She turned and ran. Hermione grinned and continued her pursuit. </p><p>The Gryffindor let the words repeat in her mind as she ran through brush and climbed over large rocks. <em> Look, listen, smell, feel, taste. Instincts</em>. She’d never felt this athletic before, but then again the Veela was quite motivating, and Hermione would be damned if she let Fleur and her infuriating smirk come out on top. She caught glimpses of the Veela dashing ahead between trees and bushes, disappearing past hills and reappearing somewhere else. Sometimes she was covered in feathers, at other times she was glancing back at Hermione with eyes blue. Then she would disappear all together. Her laughter echoed through the surrounding area, almost taunting Hermione. She was out of reach, always out of reach, but Hermione could <em> feel </em> Fleur. Her magic reached out to the blonde, searched for her, and pulled at the Gryffindor in this direction and that. She did her best not to restrain the searching magic and let go. She stumbled and felt a rush of heat run through her when she came across an item on the forest floor: Fleur’s pants. </p><p>Hermione grabbed the article and clenched it in her fists before crouching down low and tuning into herself. She closed her eyes, tilted her face skyward, and took a whiff of the air. She wasn’t sure what she expected. She felt stupid even attempting to smell Fleur in a forest like she was some animal, but then she caught a scent. The same scent from Fleur’s shirt. She bristled as a thrill ran down her spine. She kept her eyes closed and listened. Rustling of leaves as the wind blew by; chirps and calling from critters in the distance; a beating of heavy wings. Her eyes snapped open, and she turned around and looked upward into the forest canopy. </p><p>Fleur was crouched on a high up limb in a nearby tree studying Hermione with her head cocked tilted. Her large white wings were folded behind her, with matching feathers sprouted over her shoulders, down arms, and along sinewy thighs. The bright witch considered her options quickly. There was no way she could scale the trunk and branches in time to reach Fleur before the Veela flew off. She felt her magic thrum, but instead of pushing her to Fleur, it seemed to remain. She felt it expand and contract around her own form. <em> Trust yourself. </em>She was a smart witch after all. She would use her wit and natural magic. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth to withhold a snicker, and then Hermione turned and ran. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>The Veela immediately straightened her spine and then stood tall. This was not how one hunted; by running away. She ruffled her feathers in annoyance. Fleur herself felt an amused curiosity as she watched the scene unfold and felt her Veela tense up. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘What is she up to?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘I do not know.’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then they felt it. A tug at the Veela’s solar plexus strong enough to upset her balance. She steadied herself with a hand to the trunk of the tree. Her mate was out of sight with a growing distance between them. The Veela had no time to think, instead only felt the intense urge to relieve the ache of not being close enough. Wings extended outward as she dropped off the branch heavily before flapping and propelling herself onward in search of her mate. </p><p>She caught the scent. Hermione. She followed. She allowed her feet to softly thud to the ground and without missing a step continued her quick trot through the woods. Stronger. Wings retracted and the Veela quieted her presence as she crept along an overgrown path, keeping her head low. And then she noticed the silence. It was like a blanket over the woods. No creature noises, no rustling winds, no signs of life. Her heart began to beat loudly in her ears, its rhythm accelerating. She had been enjoying the chase thus far, it had been exciting, but this moment was the first that she felt like prey. She bristled as a thrill ran down her spine.</p><p>She spun around quickly, keeping low, when she heard what sounded like a break of branches somewhere off in the distance to her left. She saw nothing. She gasped at the sound of branches creaking somewhere behind her. She turned. She saw nothing. <em> Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. </em> She tried to tune into her magic, send it to scour for her mate, but it didn’t make sense. She felt Hermione everywhere at once, almost surrounding her, she shivered. It was almost as if the Gryffindor had learned how to-</p><p>And then the Veela caught the scent again. She followed. She stumbled and felt a rush of heat run through her when she came across an item on the forest floor: Hermione’s shirt. A distant alarm was sounding in the back of her mind. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. <em> Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. </em> It was when she knelt down and reached for the garment and saw her hand that she noticed it was trembling. Sweet fright coursed through her. </p><p>
  <em> ‘She did it.’ </em>
</p><p><em> ‘Well played</em>.’</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, moitié,” Hermione’s voice growled from above.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Hermione watched intently as the Veela cautiously moved through the brush, closer and closer. She took a page from her mate and decided to make her way to higher ground, so to speak. The branch she managed to climb to was much lower, of course, but had more cover. She peered through the foliage. The more trepidation Fleur exhibited, the more Hermione <em> felt, felt, felt </em>.... </p><p>She felt something inside her. It felt like it was expanding. Her magic felt more wild, almost primal, trying to, to, to...She didn’t think, she opened up. Her magic pushed forward and out. Her upper lip curled in satisfaction, baring teeth, and her fingers began to twitch and flex, waiting for the opportune moment to, to, to…But that would be ridiculous; insane. She shook her head to rid herself of the thought. She was still clutching Fleur’s discarded pants, and as her excitement continued to build she brought the clothing to her face. She felt vulgar. She felt carnal. She didn’t care. She pressed her nose in, inhaled deeply, almost moaned, stomach tightened, teeth clenched, body buzzed, magic pulsed, arousal grew from anticipation and began to almost choke her she couldn’t breathe she was breathless she was ready she was ready she was ready, and then Fleur finally reached down to grasp the bait Hermione had so cleverly laid out. </p><p>“Hello, moitié,” Hermione’s voice growled from above.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey everyone! In honor of everyone’s favorite magical useless lesbians, Fleurmione Week 2020 is coming! Starts September 3 and is seven days of Fleurmione. If you’re itching to contribute, please be sure to use #FleurmioneWeek2020<br/>https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fleurmioneweek</p><p>I myself will be working to add in a couple of one-shots that week. Stay tuned! I have much excite as some of my favorite Fleurmione will be posting as well. Will be a week of a lot of great content.</p><p>Feedback and critique, good and not-so-good, always welcome!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Pleasure is a Freedom Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"But when she looked down she saw eyes black. A panting, open-mouthed Fleur was looking up at her with a familiar expression. Hermione breathed in. Floral and lust. She knew Fleur’s arousal well by now."</p><p>Heads up: I'm back to my smutty (read: porny) roots.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet.<br/>Thank you to Mih for the encouragement and being great person to bounce plot ideas back and forth with.<br/>Thank you to Reyahtess for consultation services and expertise.<br/>Thank you to the inspiring Loch Ness Monster, reminding me to "buck up" and set up some writing sprints for me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She awoke to cool lips pressed against her forehead. The room and the sky outside the window were still dark. She had no idea what time it was.</p><p>“Fleur? Where are you going?” Hermione sleepily asked.</p><p>“Shh, go back to sleep, mon amour. I will be back.” </p><p>The Gryffindor didn’t have it in her to ask more questions. She was exhausted. The day had worn her out emotionally, physically, magically, and mentally. The fatigue seeped all the way into her bones; her body laid heavy on the mattress. Her lover secured the duvet around her before walking to the door and exiting the room. </p><p>Although they had been working on increasing the distance they could tolerate being away from each other, her chest still ached when Fleur left. It was bearable, but it was still an ever-present reminder that her mate was not close enough. She closed her eyes and tried to push the feeling down, but it was as if the bond rebelled in response and she felt a wave of anguish wash over her. </p><p>“Fuck,” she whispered into the darkness. </p><p>Hermione inhaled and exhaled deeply, in a failed attempt to self-soothe. <em> Another method, then. </em>She thought back to earlier in the evening when she and Fleur had engaged in the partner practice. Still keeping an even and steady pace to her breathing, she tried to access the peace, connection, and tranquility she had experienced. That night’s practice had been difficult initially. With everything that had happened during the day she had felt fearful revealing herself further to the blonde. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> After what had occurred in the forest she felt she couldn’t trust herself to let her guards down. She had to hold back. She couldn’t risk letting that part of her out again. Open hands clenched into closed fists as she willed herself to remain in control.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Ma lionne, you need to trust,’ Fleur’s voice echoed in her head.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Trust? How could she trust? Who could she trust? Fleur and her Veela told her to trust her own instincts and she had almost hurt the blonde. Almost…. She felt an ice-cold chill travel down her spine, wrap around her ribs, and sink inward to her core at the very idea. She couldn’t allow that to ever happen again. She would do everything in her power to shut down the growing urges and thoughts within her. They were so out of character for her, so intense and visceral, that they scared her. She had almost lost control.  If she couldn’t trust herself, how could Fleur possibly trust her?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Where do you feel it?’ Fleur asked knowingly. She was getting better at reading the Gryffindor. ‘What do you feel?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s in my chest. And in my gut. It feels tight and cold. I-I don’t know how else to explain it,” the brunette spoke aloud in a pained voice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She felt the current of magic running through them slow. It seemed to be buzzing through her veins, from her lungs with every breath, to her heart in each and every thrum, coursing through her abdomen, spreading down her arms to the tips of her fingers, down her legs to her toes, and back again. It rolled over the inner walls of her skull, licked over her tongue, filled her throat and dropped to her chest. With each exhale it reached out and into the blonde from the center of her chest, and it was there too where she felt her mate’s essence enter into her. Her lungs would fill, and the circuit continued. But every now and then Fleur would shift it, just as she was doing in this moment. Hermione felt Fleur’s magic channel to where she had described what she was experiencing. It warmed and pulsed, expanding and overtaking the gripping clutch of cold fear inside her. She saw blue. She smelled flowers. She tasted faint honey on her tongue. She felt safe.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They continued. Fleur's magic finally coaxed her into opening up. They shared rushing images, memories, emotions. Where one would feel vulnerable the other would provide strength, light, and compassion. When one felt joy and love, it was shared with her mate and they would surrender to it together. When they were finished they walked away calmer, more connected, stronger, and ready for whatever would come next.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The emptiness within her began to lessen, but not as much as she would have liked. She rolled from her side onto her back and held her hands to her sternum, applying pressure as if to push out the hollow throbbing from her chest. The transcendental partner strengthening practice had helped her cope with these feelings, but now that she was alone they were creeping back in.</p><p>Fleur had reassured her, with her magic and with her words, that Hermione had done nothing wrong. She had even told her she <em>liked</em> it, but Fleur didn’t know about the impulses, and the extent to which they were driving Hermione to go further, to not stop. To what ends, Hermione wasn’t sure, but they made her feel like an animal. A predator. Even worse was the fact that she had liked it too, and she was disgusted with herself for it. </p><p> </p><p><em> Fleur’s body went rigid when Hermione announced her presence. This pleased her. </em> I should take her now. <em> Hermione hesitated at the thought. </em> She said to earn her. <em> Fleur’s smug looks and smirks flashed through her mind, and before she could think about it again, Hermione pounced. </em></p><p> </p><p>The Gryffindor grimaced as she thought about the scene. She didn’t have to take it that far, but she felt she couldn’t help it. At the time it seemed like the only course of action that made sense.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She was on top of Fleur in an instant, but not for long. Their bodies tumbled across the forest floor, carried by the momentum of Hermione’s lunge. They wrestled and rolled down a small grassy slope, one body atop the other, and then reverse, again, again. Hermione’s heart was pounding wildly against her ribs, she could hear the blood rush in her ears, her lungs burned from the chase and attack, and her body was riled up with an urgency she could not place. And she liked it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Everything was more. Fleur’s lavender scent now had hints of some other floral, and was thick enough to taste. Honeysuckle. It wrapped itself around the brunette and invaded her senses pleasurably. She stuck her face into her mate’s neck and inhaled. Fleur’s skin, though now slightly marred with scattered scrapes and marks of dirt, felt like silk with taught muscles at the ready underneath. Hermione claimed the dominant position once again and pressed the blonde down forcefully beneath her, groaning at the feel of the woman pushing back, and delighting in Fleur’s wince of pain. And then she was scared. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione covered her face in shame. She was a monster. How could she have enjoyed attacking her mate? Enjoyed Fleur’s struggle, Fleur’s pain? Why did she behave in such a bestial way? The Veela did nothing to deserve that, and had never been that way with Hermione. Their bond should make them want to protect each other and unite, not harm and hurt, and especially not permit her pleasure from her mate's pain. Fleur had been Hermione’s safe place in the past and now in the present, so why did the brunette feel compelled to physically dominate her so? She’d never laid a hand on a woman before, or exerted force over anyone physically or magically, except when her life had depended on it in the war. She never hurt anyone outside of the vicious battles she endured not too long ago, except for Malfoy of course. But he definitely deserved that. She had no regrets. But this? What happened today was not ok. Not ok at all. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Fleur! I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that! I’m so sorry, I-” Hermione sat up and started to back away, crossing her hands in front of herself to keep them at bay. To keep them from their assault. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But when she looked down she saw eyes black. A panting, open-mouthed Fleur was looking up at her with a familiar expression. Hermione breathed in. Floral and lust. She knew Fleur’s arousal well by now. Her body’s response was immediate: heartbeat thundering, a heat in the pit of her stomach, blood rushing lower still and the clouding of her mind that made the distinction between want and logic blur. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do not stop, ma lionne,” the Veela pleaded beneath her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With the exception of her eyes, Fleur was untransformed, yet there was an inhuman tone laced into her voice that called to something inside of Hermione. As if sensing she still needed encouragement, the Veela sat up as much as she could with Hermione still on top of her, and gently reached out one hand to caress and cup the Gryffindor’s face. She softly pressed her lips against the brunette’s, a sharp contrast to what had just taken place. Blue eyes returned, but the gentle hand became firm as it grasped Hermione’s jaw. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You have to earn me, as I told you. Do you remember that?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione nodded silently. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I will tell you if I do not appreciate what you are doing. Do you trust me to do that?” Excitement glinted in Fleur’s eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione nodded again, allowing some of the thrill to return to her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Follow your instincts, mon cœur.” The Veela smirked and then leaned forward to nip at the brunette’s lower lip. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Black eyes returned and Fleur’s hand dropped from Hermione’s face to the center of her chest, and she lightly pushed the younger witch. The Gryffindor’s immediate reaction was to push back, grab Fleur’s hands then pin them down. Adrenaline coursed through her as Fleur tried to yank her hands free to escape, and the struggle to maintain the upper hand continued. Hermione pressed her face to her mate’s mark, inhaled through her nose, long lick, scattered nips. The cries that Fleur let out was invigorating and Hermione lost herself in the smell, taste, feel and sound of the woman beneath her. Taking advantage of the moment, the blonde freed herself with a check of her hip and a quick turn. Fleur was able to get to her hands and knees to begin to scramble away, an airy and victorious laugh flowing from her as she cast a smirking glance over her shoulder at the Gryffindor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione felt a fire within her. She couldn’t let the blonde get away. Not since she was so close. So close to what exactly, she didn’t know, but she didn’t dwell on it. She sprang to her feet with a lascivious grin and went after her prey. Her eyes were focused on Fleur’s back and she watched as feathers began to erupt. Soon enough she saw wings beginning to emerge from skin and muscle, pushing high then extending outward. Breathtaking.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fuck,” the younger witch muttered as she realized Fleur’s plan. </em>
</p><p><em> She would not let the blonde escape. Sneakers kicked up leaves and dirt as each step dug into the ground while she sprinted forward, forward, as fast as she could. Her breathing was hard, her arms swung at her sides, her speed picked up. </em> Heart beat. Heart beat. Heart beat. <em> Fleur had risen to her feet now and was running too, a bit ungainly but Hermione knew she had to catch up quickly before the Veela took to the air. Vast powerful wings began to shake white feathers ready. They drew downward and upward in preparation for flight, but Hermione wouldn’t let her get away. Not again when she was so close, not this time. Perspiration prickled on her skin, drops of sweat ran down her back, lungs burned. She wouldn’t let her get away, not this time, not this time, Fleur was </em> hers <em> . Hers to claim, to catch, and to make submit. She would earn her, take her- her prize for winning the hunt. The beating of Fleur’s wings grew louder, faster, and she started to rise into the air.  </em></p><p>
  <em> It was her last chance and Hermione felt confident. She had gained ground and before the Veela could ascend too high, Hermione lunged forward. She reached out and grabbed Fleur by her hips to pluck her brutally from her flight. She brought them both down to the forest floor, the blonde landing hard on her stomach and the brunette just behind her. Hermione rose to her knees gasping. She wanted to revel in her triumph, but her magic urged her to continue; told her the victory was not yet won. She dove and sprawled on top of the woman, using one hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades and the weight of her body to keep Fleur from rising again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In this position, with Fleur at her mercy beneath her, after fighting for her, Hermione felt exhilarated. She rocked her hips forward, hardened erection pressing against the Veela’s firm backside, and let out a low and satisfied moan. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione tossed the covers off  and sat up. Shoulders were hunched, and her breath was heavy and difficult under the burden of guilt. She shouldn’t have done what she did. It was violent. She was violent. She could have injured Fleur when she yanked her down to the ground. Hermione was vulgar, disrespectful, and let unfamiliar base desires and instincts take control. Where was her conscience when this happened? She was fully present, was she not? But how could Hermione, in a clear state of mind, ever allow herself to want this or to behave in such a way?</p><p>“Damn it,” she whispered to the empty room. </p><p>The hunt had aroused her. Recounting it in her mind was turning her on as well. Watching Fleur run, following her scent, seeing the apprehension, and feeling the fight against her, all had unexpectedly sent her body into a hot and needy state. She felt embarrassed about it now, but couldn’t stop her body’s betrayal. Blood and heat flowed into her cock and she wrapped her hands around her member through her pajama pants. She willed it to go down, but she was unable to combat that growing beast within her that delighted in the memory of the pursuit. She couldn’t help but jut her hips forward as she recalled what she had done. <em> Fleur had wanted it though. She had begged for more </em>, she tried to rationalize. She slipped her hands under the waistband. She felt guilty touching herself now, yes, but she couldn’t help it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hermione leaned forward, unclothed chest to the Veela’s back, and pressed harder into Fleur. She needed more, and something inside her told her there was something more she was supposed to do, she just wasn’t sure what. The younger witch slipped both arms around the blonde’s waist and continued to grind herself relentlessly against her conquest. It felt good, but it was missing the relief she thought she would get from capturing her mate.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please,” Fleur gasped out as she rocked herself back in time with Hermione.  </em>
</p><p><em> The brunette stilled and returned to her logical mind, concerned she had hurt her mate. </em> What the fuck am I doing? <em> She began to retract herself from Fleur but the Veela quickly grabbed her hand and looked back at her.  </em></p><p><em> “ </em> Je t’implore<em>, ma lionne. Do not stop! Do not stop,” Fleur seemed to be almost crying for Hermione to continue.  </em></p><p>
  <em> The Gryffindor was hesitant at first, but her heart pounded against its confines in wild desire, and her dick throbbed with need. She resumed more gently, laying atop Fleur with care, hands and forearms planted on the ground as she began a slow rhythm against the woman underneath her. She felt her hands, arms, legs shaking, her body tensed, as she restrained herself as much as she could to avoid losing control. She wanted more... more….... more………. but she wasn’t sure of what. Slow, slow, slow, she would take her time and fight against the gluttony of her lust. But Fleur wasn’t having it. She pushed her hips back seductively, creating more friction, trying to speed up the timing of Hermione’s movements.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fuck.” Hermione’s nails dug into the dirt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please,” the begging came again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fleur slid her hands over Hermione’s and guided them to her hair. It took a moment but Hermione understood. She wove her fingers through blonde locks. Fleur growled, but did not let go of the brunette. Hermione clasped her fingers tighter, tugging at the Veela’s tresses as she ground down onto her more roughly. Fleur's growl turned into a whine and her hands dropped from her mate’s. Hermione continued tugging her hair, encouraged by the responses from the blonde, and pushed with her forearms and legs against the forest floor to grind into and pin the helpless woman down.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do it!” Fleur cried out. “You know what to do.” She moaned as Hermione jerked her hips against her again. “Just, take it. Claim me. You earned it,” the Veela gasped out, disappearing her wings. “Please.” </em>
</p><p><em> There it was again. The plea. Hermione wasn’t sure what to do. Her blood, her heart, her magic, her bones were driving her to fulfill something she couldn’t name. Then Fleur reached around and pushed her hair aside to expose her mark, tilted her neck to expose more flesh. </em> Submission. <em> Hermione felt something reverberate from within, growing until instinct eclipsed logic. She pulled Fleur’s hair to angle her head further to the side, giving her more access to her neck, to her mark. To the mark Hermione gave her. Teeth ached, her body was thrumming, she inhaled her mate through her nose and descended upon the bared flesh with a determined and possessive bite.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Damn it,” Hermione cried out, exasperated. </p><p>Her body wouldn’t let her hold back. She was firmly stroking her cock as she recalled the way Fleur had let her, begged her, to dominate her. To mark her again. Fleur trusted her, wanted her, surrendered to her. That pleasure-pain sound that came from her Veela’s mouth when Hermione bit her was almost enough to make her come undone at the time. And now it just spurred her on further. She pulled her pants off and leaned back against the headboard. Her cheeks were flushed with guilt, but she hungered for more. Her hands kept stroking, her held tilted back, mouth open, and she gave in and let her mind continue its revisit to their earlier tryst. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hermione flipped Fleur onto her back after unclasping her bra and then pulled it off. She spread the blonde’s legs and pushed her hardened member against her again. Fleur’s hands were everywhere. In Hermione’s hair, running down her back, traveling over her breasts, and to her back again. She wove her fingers back through blonde tresses and white plumage, hovered her face over the Veela’s mark, and let her mouth work and worship the sacred spot. Fleur squirmed and sighed before grabbing the hem of Hermione’s pants and tugging at them impatiently.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Take these off and fuck me,” the Veela demanded.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione didn’t like that. She felt herself nearly growl in response. Fleur had no right to tell her what to do. Fleur was hers in this moment, and not the other way around. Hermione had earned this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I won the chase!” Hermione reprimanded as she grabbed Fleur’s wrists and tore them from her pants. “I will enjoy and use my reward as I see fit!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She gasped, instantly feeling horrified at the words and tone that came from her mouth. She loosened her grip on her mate. Fleur must have seen her horror, she dropped her hands to Hermione’s thighs and began to rub soothing circles on them.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, you are right. Tu as gagné. You won. You are in charge,” the Veela said earnestly. Feathers began to vanish. Black eyes changed to dark blue. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione felt a growing panic. Her stomach was in knots. She felt a nausea creeping up through her chest. Had she been forcing Fleur this whole time? Did Fleur think she owed Hermione? She started to fear it was only the Veela half that had been enjoying their game and this final act. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I want this, just like this,” her mate reassured.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gone were any signs of the inner Veela. It was just her and Fleur. Sky blue met amber brown, and the blonde nodded her head.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I want this. And when you take me this way, when you claim me so, I can feel your hunger for me. Your need. And it makes me feel good, Hermione. It does. Do not stop. Please, keep doing what feels right.” </em>
</p><p><em> She was apprehensive, but there was a swell within her chest and heat between her legs that pushed her over. She would resume, but she would still be the one in charge. She took Fleur’s arms and pushed them to the ground above her head. They locked eyes, blue turned black met fierce brown, and without words the Veela seemed to understand the tacit command. </em>Don’t move.</p><p>
  <em> Hermione worked her pants undone, slid them down her legs and kicked them off. Her briefs were tented with her hardon and she stroked herself through the fabric. The brunette climbed between the open and waiting legs before her and took in the dark mark of wet arousal on Fleur’s panties. Her mouth began to salivate. One hand splayed upon the blonde’s lower stomach, and the other reached forward and hovered over Fleur’s covered center. Brown eyes flicked upward to meet black and held the gaze for several breaths before looking back down. Without further hesitation she grabbed the panties with both hands, swiftly pulled to rip them apart, and climbed on top of her mate once again. She set a brusque and desperate pace with her hips, cock firm against the hot center.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fervid noises erupted from them both. Hermione couldn't tell them apart. Her hands were digging into Fleur, and nails were grasping at her back. Teeth claimed whatever skin came close, becoming more and more voracious by the second.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please, please,” the only coherent words Hermione could pick out of Fleur’s utterings. And then, “fuck me, please, I need you inside.” </em>
</p><p><em> Reason and restraint began to break within the Gryffindor. </em> She wants me, she needs me, inside. <em> She reached between their bodies and in a moment she removed her cock from its confines to run its length against the wet slit of Fleur’s core. </em> Merlin. <em> It was as sweet as she had remembered that first time and she hadn’t even entered the woman yet. Hermione earned this. She would take it.</em></p><p> </p><p>Hermione stilled her hands when she remembered her almost-betrayal. She had almost gone further; almost given in to the wanton pleas and tantalizing pleasure of Fleur. She had wanted to, and she thought she was going to enter her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Images of their conversation earlier in the day flooded her mind; they were going to take their time. In a more clear headed state they had agreed to take their time. They had already made the mistake of letting lust guide their decisions before, and that was what had started this all. </p><p>No. Not a mistake. It wasn’t right, perhaps, but it wasn’t wrong. It had brought them together and despite the confusion and turmoil and complexity of it all, Hermione couldn’t bring herself to regret it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She slid herself up and down Fleur’s center, covering her erection in the woman’s arousal. The sensation was killing her, a slow sweet death, and judging by Fleur’s keening and matching thrusts, she too was on the edge. Hermione pulled her hips back, pressed a hand to the Veela’s hip to keep her still, and used the other to guide the tip of her head to the ready entrance of the blonde’s core.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Some distant alarm was sounding in the recesses of Hermione’s brain, but her mind was hazy with lust. Fleur wanted her. She wanted this. Hermione wanted this. But the alarm was sounding louder, disrupting the compulsions of her primal instinct. How to be an honorable and decent woman?   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But that didn’t mean she couldn’t ravage Fleur in another way. Hermione slid down the Veela’s body, disregarding Fleur’s insistent protests of her withdrawal. She bit slick skin and drew a path with her tongue over curves and muscle until she reached the torn fabric. Her mouth watered, a rumble emanated from her chest, she bent toward the beauty and drank from the source.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> &lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Fleur was ecstatic. She couldn’t wait to tell Hermione the news, she just wasn’t sure if she should wake her now or tell her in the morning. Her feet were light and quick as she made her way up the stairs, hand dancing up the smooth banister. She could hardly contain herself or her grin. The Flock always knew what she needed, but she somehow had let herself doubt. She felt betrayed by her heritage when it all started, but maybe she had it all wrong. As her mother said, this bond could be the biggest blessing of both their lives, and the Flock would always support its Veela. </p><p>She slowed her steps when she reached the bedroom and carefully turned the knob, deciding to let Hermione sleep. It had been an eventful and emotional day after all. She opened the door just enough to slip through. She was not prepared for the scene before her. </p><p>It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but the sounds echoing in the dark room were clear: Hermione was awake. Heavy breathing with intermittent gasping. Hermione’s unique scent reached her before the image came into focus. It was uniquely her mate’s, somehow mixed with her own, rushing out and surrounding her as if trying to entice her closer. Her inner Veela began to push its way forward, feathers bristling under the skin, but Fleur stopped the transformation. </p><p><em> ‘Not tonight. Tonight she is just mine, with just me.’ </em> </p><p>The inner Veela compiled without a fight. Soft feet toward the bed as she took in the vision before her. Hermione was stiff, head thrown back, two hands stroking with effortful movements. Her eyes flitted back to her lover’s face. It was not contorted in pleasure, instead almost in pain.  </p><p>“Allow me, ma moitié,” the Veela whispered as she swiftly moved onto the bed and mounted her mate.</p><p>Caught by surprise, the brunette snapped her head forward, eyes wide, face flushed. Being caught fondling herself was probably not what she had anticipated or desired when she started. Fleur watched the witch dart her eyes away, looking anywhere but at her. <em> That will not do </em>. Her mate had nothing to be ashamed about. She let her hand dip low and purchase on Hermione’s, gently pressing to encourage her witch to continue. </p><p>“It is ok, do not look away. This is a pleasant surprise to return to,” Fleur tried to keep the eagerness out of her voice so as not to push the brunette too far. She wanted to know what was troubling her mate.“Tell me what you were thinking about. Please.”</p><p>She had learned quickly the effect of that word on her mate. ‘Please.’ It seemed to ignite something inside Hermione, as if flint striking steel. And indeed, as anticipated, Hermione’s eyes locked on Fleur’s with a fiery intensity that seemed to travel from her gaze and into the Veela. Her body was alight with the heat of the flame, and just as she learned about herself the first night, Fleur accepted she was not below begging to get as much of the brunette as the brunette would allow. But first she would alleviate whatever it was that had her witch so conflicted. Hermione’s upper lip curled and Fleur could swear she almost heard a growl, but the witch remained tight-lipped. So it was the fantasy that was the source of her distress.</p><p>“Please, mon amour. I must know, watching you is turning me on but I want more. I need more.” She slipped her hand off of Hermione’s and onto her shaft, following the tentative rhythm that the Gryffindor was setting. “It is ok, whatever it is. It is natural.” </p><p>Hermione began to quicken the pace of her hand, and Fleur followed it stroke for stroke, gently adding more pressure. A moan began to seep from her lover’s mouth before she finally spat out a response. </p><p>“Your cunt,” the witch winced at her own words, but Fleur felt her own fire ignite from within. “The taste, your taste,” Hermione rushed out. At her words the Veela’s center, already wet, responded with more dripping arousal. </p><p>“Ah, so you were thinking about before,” Fleur surmised. She was beginning to understand. Hermione gave a diffident nod.</p><p>When they both finished in the forest, Fleur had held Hermione close, pet her hair, kissed her face and whispered assurances in her ear. Hermione was scared of her instincts and Fleur told her over and over how much she loved how Hermione had taken control. During the partner practice she reassured the Gryffindor again. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I felt safe with you. I knew I could let go and I could trust you to let go. I can trust you with all of me and that’s how you made me feel. You make me feel safe.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>But here her mate was, again wrought with guilt and disbelief. <em> Another method, then. </em></p><p>Fleur raised and flicked her other hand to wordlessly vanish her clothes. She bit her lip to keep stifle a moan as she watched Hermione’s chest rise and fall more quickly. She kept stroking, keeping a sure and steady pace. </p><p>“May I?” She asked as she reached forward and grabbed the bottom of Hermione’s shirt. </p><p>The Gryffindor’s jaw slackened open and she looked as if she was trying to form words, but ended up just nodding. Febrile energy and magic were running off of her in waves. Clothing was discarded. </p><p>“I wanted you to fuck me before. I thought you would.” She brought her other hand to cup Hermione as the two of them continued to pump back and forth along her shaft. </p><p>“It excited me when you hunted me, when you captured me, and when you held me down. I thought you were going to take what is yours,” Fleur spit in her hand. “And I <em>am</em> yours,” she returned the hand to its mission. </p><p>Hermione’s hips were jerking now, as if trying to remain still but unable to deny her what she wanted. </p><p>“You turned me on so much that when you put your mouth on me instead, I almost came in just that first moment.” </p><p>And this was true. Fleur hadn’t expected it, but she had been quickly coming undone. She realized that must have been what Hermione had experienced when she came so much faster than she had expected during their previous escapades.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The damp heat of Hermione’s mouth descended upon her and Fleur instantly cried out. She should have known that the Gryffindor, talented at seemingly everything, would be a master with oral pleasure. There was no work up or tease. Her lover was hungry and greedily took from Fleur’s center. Warm lips wrapped around her clit before she felt her tongue drag purposely across, circle, and then dip down and push inside of her. She wouldn’t stop, and the pattern continued. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t sure how long I would last. I wanted it to never end but I needed you to finish me,” Fleur was breathless at the recollection, and her movements began to speed up. “You have a wicked tongue, ma lionne, and I like it when you put it to work on my cunt.”</p><p>A moan ripped from Hermione’s throat and she began to thrust her hips to meet the synced cadence of their hands.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fleur didn’t bother to hold back the sounds her mate was drawing out of her. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. She let legs drop open wide to give her lover more access. Hands snaked into brown hair in an effort to find any way to keep herself anchored to this plane. She felt her mind spiraling from pleasure. Hermione’s tongue was clever in its movements, her lips soft when they enveloped her, and her breath teasing and switching from bursts of warm to blows of cool air. The Veela couldn’t stay still. She was writhing under the cunning and relentless mouth of her mate until two strong hands grabbed her hips and held them down firmly. Fleur couldn’t hold on any longer, the anchor untethered, her back arched, her mouth dropped open, howls released from her throat and her hands tangled and knotted into locks.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“That control, that command you took with me, with your presence and your body, that’s when it was over. I was so wet for you, I’m so wet for you now,” Fleur’s voice quivered as her own lust began to overflow. </p><p>From recounting how Hermione had ravished her, to witnessing and then participating in Hermione’s self pleasure, Fleur’s desire was burning incendiary. She reached between her legs to gather slick and then massaged it onto her mate’s member. The noises of the work of their hands, and the high pitched gasps from Hermione, fueled the Veela’s passion. She dipped a finger into her center again and then brought it to Hermione’s lips. The brunette opened her mouth but Fleur pulled her finger away. When Hermione clenched her teeth in frustration, the blonde returned her finger and drew it across her mate’s bottom lip, leaving a trail of arousal. Satisfied with her art, she leaned forward and took the kiss roughly, relishing in the taste of herself on her lover. </p><p>Fleur pushed Hermione’s hands aside and took over. She shifted her body until her hot center was above the tip of the Gryffindor’s cock, occasionally touching them together as she stroked the brunette with increasing speed. How she ached for Hermione to be in her. She felt it again, that dire need. </p><p>“And then.. and then you-” She hadn’t even been focusing on her own pleasure but she felt on the brink. Her words gave way to keening and she couldn’t finish her sentence. </p><p>“And then I did this,” Hermione growled out as she sat up and swept the blonde onto her back. </p><p>Fleur’s words were gone. It was like in the forest, but this time all of Hermione’s timidity was gone. Hermione began to thrust, dragging the length of her member through Fleur’s folds and over her clit. The brunette dropped her body onto the Veela, slid fingers to the nape of her neck, laced them into her hair and held tight. The world narrowed for Fleur as she breathed in the rich dominating scent of her mate above her. The overwhelming feeling of calm settled within as the aura of control from the brunette washed over her, leaving her feeling entirely owned and safe. Hermione slid one hand forward to caress Fleur’s breast and then tug at a sensitive bud. The Veela hissed and then wrapped her legs around her mate, grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her closer, closer, never close enough. She tried to respond with her hips but Hermione wouldn’t let her move. The Gryffindor set the rhythm and wouldn’t give up the reins. Her cock was fully coated in Fleur’s arousal and it slid hot and unrelenting against her. Hermione’s grunts were muffled as she buried her face in Fleur’s neck. The Veela could no longer hear the noises she was making, completely unconcerned with the growing volume of her moans and snarls, instead focused in on the pleasure coming from Hermione and the climax building within her. She couldn’t catch her breath, she couldn’t breathe, she was breathless. Each inhale-exhale left her more quickly than the last. A feeling of weightlessness enveloped her, dizzying her and leaving her hazy with all thoughts shrinking away. With each thrust she was closer, ready; she was ready she was ready. With just the right angle and push Fleur was coming and together they were shaking, lost in the embrace of the other and the feelings shared. Their magics were swirling wildly around them, rushing out and dancing until the lovers landed on the other side. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>It was Fleur that was wrapped around Hermione tonight. The Gryffindor wasn’t used to being the little spoon but found she liked it. They were intertwined, connected in a new way. Fleur was whispering in her ear, telling her how much she cared for her, how much she felt cared for, and how perfect Hermione was in bed. Emotions, chemistry, physicality, and magic were all aligned and complementary. Hermione found she could breathe more easily. The doubt and the fear and the cold that had gripped her insides before were long gone. The peace she felt reminded her of their walk back to the estate. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> They were holding hands as they made their way through the woods, traveling in comfortable silence. Both were hungry after their hunt, but decided a stroll to cool down would do them well before they apparated back to the probable company of others. Hermione was taking in the beauty of the forest when a particular sight caught her interest. She stopped to stare and analyze what she was seeing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What is that?” she asked Fleur as she gestured toward a pair of trees.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They were distinctly two, but also one. Separate but somehow not. Trunks leaned into each other, and limbs and branches were woven around ones from its partner. In certain places it was hard to tell which belonged to which tree. In the middle at the height of Hermione’s gaze there was an even stranger phenomenon. The two trunks seemed almost married; joined and fused, almost as if they had been grafted together. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ah, that is an inosculated tree. Well, two, but one,” Fleur stated as if that was enough of an explanation for the curious Gryffindor. It was not.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What does that mean? Explain,” the request wasn’t so much demanding as it was just that Hermione was distracted. She let go of the Veela’s hand and approached to more closely examine. Hands caressed over bark, vine, and moss in wonder.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It is a natural occurrence. Two trees grow close over time. Under the right circumstances they begin to intertwine and grow together. They grow separate for a time, until they touch, but then they join. They even fuse, as you can see. Nature allows the barrier of the bark to fall away and then they-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “They bond,” Hermione finished absentmindedly. She let her hand rest at the joint of the connection of the two trees.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oui, they bond.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And they are separate but the same.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oui, distinct but one. We could call it a transformative love, non?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “A transformative love, yes,” Hermione murmured. “I am beginning to understand.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> &lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Where did you slip off to tonight?” Hermione asked Fleur as sleep was was slowly beginning to overtake her. </p><p>“Oh, I was going to tell you in the morning when you were awake, but I am so excited!”</p><p>Hermione turned to face her mate.</p><p>“It is ma sœur, my sister! Gabrielle has come home to meet you and support us! I can’t wait for you two to meet again!” </p><p>Fleur’s smile was infectious and soon enough Hermione’s own cheeks were sore with delight. Her mate was happy, she was happy, and they were safe and secure. If somehow given the chance, Hermione wouldn’t change a thing about how they had come to be where they were now. With eyes closed she turned back around and finally let sleep take her. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I do apologize for the time it has taken to update this fic. Life, man. Life.<br/>It will be slow to update, but there is an actual plot I am following and an end in sight. I will not abandon the fic. Je promets.</p><p>Feedback and critique, good and not-so-good, always welcome!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Really the first couple of chapters will most likely be heavy on smut. But I really do intend to work in some kind of plot, well developed or not. This will be my first attempt at a multi-chapter story, and my second story ever, so, here we go. No promises regarding quality, length, or completion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p></blockquote></div></div>
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